Resurrection
by Chase998
Summary: Following the destruction of the Power Base, Captain Power and the team attempt to recover their focus and one of their own as Dread prepares his ultimate move against humanity. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**A Bird In The Hand**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

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Jon Power's world crashed around him with the distant rumble of the base. His gaze was riveted to the screen that blinked in and out with an image of the destroyed structure. His body felt numb, as if caught in a surreal world where nothing was true. The base had been leveled, with one of his people inside, now dead somewhere in the rubble.

Corporal Jennifer "Pilot" Chase had managed to send the remaining suits and Mentor's backup on the Skybike to rendezvous with them before sacrificing herself for the human cause. Power sat in his chair aboard the jumpship, replaying the image. She had been somewhere in the middle of that chaos, that hell. He had lied in saying there was another way. Pilot's way was the only way to ensure the cause continued, that humankind would live another day. It was a plan of action that had always been in place. Jon just never thought they would have to use it. He certainly never counted on losing one of his own in the process.

Outside the ship, his crew was making more repairs on the jumpship, keeping a close eye out for Dread forces that lingered in the area. Soaron and later the transport ship had done a number on the drives, and they had to take the repair time when they found it. Without a base, there was no bay in which to work, no equipment to speed the process. Scout and Tank would have to do their best to make repairs to get the ship in fighting order again, and Jon was content to let them do just that. Nothing mattered anymore. The war, the unit his father started – it all seemed so far away now, so useless and unimportant. He could not fathom for his life a reason to continue the mission.

Jon's memories lingered on Jennifer's face, and he tried in earnest to remember every detail, to make them a permanent part of his memory. His mind screamed that she was dead, but his soul refused to believe it. It was unreal. It was a lie. Even if it was the truth, his culpability only increased. He was responsible for what happened to her. He was responsible for her death.

"Jon," said Matt Masterston in a quiet voice from somewhere behind Power.

Power did not move, but acknowledged the major's presence. The two were alone, and Jon knew he could trust his friend. "I shouldn't have sent her on her own, Matt."

Matt slumped down into the chair next to Power. He exhaled in a long drawn-out breath. "I could give you all the speeches about risks and honor, and I know they wouldn't add up to anything for you. So, I'll spare you that; but it doesn't change the fact that Jennifer knew what she was doing. If your father were here, he'd tell you that this is the grim side of war."

Anger flashed on Jon's face. "I don't accept that!"

"You have to accept it. That's the way it is. People die in war. We've watched thousands die at Dread's hand."

Power trained his eyes on the monitor as he entered the command for the video feedback to roll. His face was awash in the light of a replay of the explosion. "We're going back," he answered quietly.

Matt's face reflected weariness. "Jon, there's no use. Even if she survived the blast, she was badly injured. The chances that she's still alive are a million to one. We set those charges to destroy the base and anything in it."

Power turned to Hawk, Masterston's call sign, with steely determination in his eyes. "We're going back, Major." Then his tone softened, but his voice was unsteady. "We're going to find something to bury, Matt. That's not going to be where she's laid to rest. We're going to take her somewhere that's quiet and peaceful. That's not where she ends."

Hawk sat there, unyielding for a moment. His stance was clear, yet Jon bargained that the major would see things his way. Hawk took a broad rub at the whole of his face, as if to wipe away the sins of the day.

He looked at Jon squarely, and there was compassion on Matt's face. "No, it's not." He gave a nod. "We'll go as soon as we have everything on board."

Hawk stood with resolution from the chair. He placed a hand on Power's shoulder, for whatever good it might do. "I'm sorry, Jon," he said, lingering.

Lieutenant Michael "Tank" Ellis and Sergeant Robert "Scout" Baker boarded quickly, stowing the bike and placing Pilot's last cargo in the hold. Hawk initiated the takeoff sequence, but the jumpship groaned in rebellion. Soaron had inflicted considerable damage in the surprise attack outside the jumpgate. The ship was operating on Scout's will alone, a little pleading going a long way to keep a bucket of bolts airborne.

There was a sense of uneasiness as Power's crew took their places in the ship. What they were about to do was irrational at the most elementary level. If Blastarr was operational, it bordered on suicidal. There could still be troopers outside the blast zone waiting for them.

The jumpship rattled in protest as Hawk flared the engines. Scout's repairs had been temporary at best. The ship groaned under the stress of takeoff. Jon watched the power levels on his console. They were far from optimal. In theory, the ship should never have made it off the ground. Somehow, though, his team had gotten it to fly.

The scanners were operational, and Power counted that as a blessing. Even if they could not outrun an attack from Soaron or Blastarr, they would at least see it coming and would have a fighting chance at staving off death. Scout's hands roamed the console, watching for any signs, but there were none. They were in the clear for the moment.

They neared the site of the base they had known, the one Jon's father had built with the determination that humankind would rise up once more, victorious and free. It was a pile of rubble now, smoldering and sparking with the last remnants of resistance to death it could offer. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos lay what was left of Jennifer Chase.

Very quietly, very calmly, Jon said, "Hawk, take us in for a closer look. Center us on Pilot's last known location. We'll do a concentric scan from there, find anything that was missed by the charges."

Jon's tone was that of a commander. It had to be. He had a job to do. It was the only comfort he could find for the moment, the only thing that could quell the demon inside his heart. It was the one thing he had known for so long that had steadied him no matter the circumstance. His responsibility focused him, gave him solace in the midst of tragic loss.

The jumpship banked slowly at Hawk's command. It circled the debris field like a bird, slow and graceful. Power slumped back in his chair as the visuals played over the screen. A hole had been blown in the side of the mountain, where the charges had been directed. All that remained was the western shell of hillside, looking like the exposed skeleton of some ancient predator that was long dead and gone. The bunker they had used for a command center had been demolished. There was nothing left but twisted steel and crushed concrete.

"Scout, start scanning. Make sure there's . . . " A sharp intake of breath, and Jon could continue. "Make sure there's nothing left for Dread."

Scout's hands glided over his console. "Scanning for electromagnetic signatures."

Jon's eyes strayed to the Scout's console. He watched as the sergeant directed the scanners to search for any remaining operational units, including biodread units. He also saw a surreptitious command to scan for human life signs. If Scout had not initiated it, Power might have ordered him.

"All scans negative so far, Captain," Scout reported.

"Keep looking. I don't want Dread to find a working diode down there."

"Yes, sir."

Hawk brought the jumpship into another steep, rolling bank, circling lower this time. The devastation looked worse the closer they came to the surface. The crew said nothing. They could only watch as the evidence of the blast became more apparent. Most of it was rubble, but there were occasional features that Jon could recognize from the base. The blast had done its job, destroying everything. Still, there were shards of the past that remained intact.

Scout's console emitted a tiny blip. His head snapped up in attention. "I have a read."

"What is it?" Power asked eagerly.

"Reading a power source. Could be what's left of Blastarr. The signal's very weak. Probably buried under the rubble."

Tank spoke for the first time. "It would be nice," he said, "if we could take that beast out of Dread's arsenal."

The suggestion was one laden with double meaning, and Power understood it completely. Yes, it would be good to remove the threat of Blastarr once and for all. It would be better to exact some revenge on the one who had killed Pilot.

Power sat back in his chair and let the feeling of pending satisfaction sink in to his pain. "Yes, it would, Lieutenant." He turned to Hawk, feeling confident and angry. "Hawk, set us down as close to that signal as you can."

Scout continued to monitor the scanners until the ship had set down on the coordinates. As they prepared to disembark, he took a portable scanner. "We're going to have to pinpoint it on foot, Captain. There was too much interference from the air with the debris."

"Understood," Power said. He eyed the group of men standing before him. His anger rose again, pushing away the grief. In a voice that seemed foreign even to him, he said, "Let's suit up."

He put his fist to the badge that symbolized their cause, the one he had known most of his adult life. It was the cause his father had started, knowing the dangerous line that separated science from what some might call evil had been crossed. The badge was their call, a phoenix rising from the ashes caused by the Machines.

"Power on," Jon said with a grim tone.

A flash of light filled the cabin of the ship. Jon felt the electric wave flow through him, a tingling sensation that accompanied the activation of the suit. He felt the metal armor form around his limbs, and the visor of his helmet suddenly altered his vision. He looked about the cabin of the jumpship. His team had activated their suits, as well. They were ready, ready for what had to be done in the last remains of the Power Base.

"Let's go."

The hatch to the jumpship opened, and they filed out, weapons drawn. Power motioned for the team to fan out, in case Blastarr was stronger than Scout's initial readings. The ticking sound on the hand scanner clicked steadily, indicating a read. They moved forward, the ticking increasing in tempo. The remains of the base impeded their progress, but they maneuvered around the obstacles until they were on track once more.

The remains of the base looked odd in the glow of the nightvision provided by Power's face shield. A green tinge took away some of the edge of the destruction. It looked artificial, a two-dimensional field of destruction in the dead of night.

Sparks bled out of the remaining conduits, where the blast did not touch. The residual energy from the power plant would soon fade away, but it spewed forth from the tubing above them like a last breath of life. Small fires burned, causing clouds of smoke that impeded their vision in waves. The smell of destruction surrounded them.

Scout paused to check the reading. "Ten meters, this way," he said, nodding.

They continued forward, the clicking sound from the scanner getting faster. "Five meters," Scout said, a twinge of agitation in his voice.

Tank brought his weapon to bear, taking aim before him. "Ready when you are, Captain."

Power took aim with his pistol. "Hawk, you take left flank. Tank, you have the right. Scout, stay behind me and watch for any movement."

They moved forward, the rubble crunching under foot. The metal beams of what used to be the infrastructure of the base groaned in rebellion at the imbalance of weight now being pushed against it. Half the support beams had been blown out the side, leaving an unsteady mass of metal and concrete hanging nearly in midair.

The charges set at the power source had been effective. They had worked as planned, decimating everything in the direction of the blast. There was a method to the madness of destruction. Most of the crucial data-related parts of the base had been concentrated in a fortified bunker area. To destroy the area required a directed force, a concentration of explosives. What remained of the base was of little consequence. Maybe a few supplies survived, but nothing of much use to a Bio Dread.

They were upon Blastarr before Power knew it. It was a piece of him, anyway. It looked like a tread from the foot when the machine decided to get rolling. There was no power to it. It sat amid the destruction, unmoving.

Jon kicked at the tread with his foot. "Scout, where's the thing's head?"

"Two meters, dead ahead. I'm not seeing a linear signal, though."

Power stopped his progress, uneasy. "Meaning what, Sergeant?" he snapped.

"I can't be sure, but I think he's one floor under. It looks like where he is gave way to a sub-basement."

"Any way to get to it?"

Scout tapped quickly at the scanner keys. "I think so. It looks like there's a corridor leading to him another ten meters to the left, somewhere near the major."

Hawk moved around his area of patrol. "There's a hole over here. We can climb down."

They converged on the area, Tank taking point. He pushed one beam out of the way when it blocked their path. Then they were in the darkened corridor. While the charges had been effective, some of the base remained. Hawk lit up the hallway with a lantern on his armor.

"We're in C7, I think," he said, moving ahead of Tank.

The pinging on the scanner grew stronger. "We're close, Captain," Scout reported.

"I see something," Hawk said with excitement. "It's Blastarr's torso."

Power looked ahead of the group. There it was – the upper body of a monster. It may have been a machine, but it had the heart of the devil inside it. To left was another corridor, its floor strewn with the remnants of the ceiling. The scanner clicked with intensity, excitedly telling of its proximity to its quarry. More of Blastarr lay disassembled down the other walkway.

Power nodded in the direction of the offshoot. "Scout, take cover in that hall while we finish this. Let us know when Blastarr's dead."

"Yes, sir."

Scout moved off to the side while Power, Tank and Hawk moved in for the kill. A dim light emanated from Blastarr's eyes, if one could call them that. The breastplate that once shown the Dread logo in bright red was dim, a telltale sign of Blastarr's weakness. There were no witty parting words from the machine, no arrogant comments about human weakness. The machine was vulnerable and probably dying. Hawk's light glinted off Blastarr's wounded metal body, making it seem somehow less terrible a thing than it had been all those years.

Power brought his weapon into firing position. Hawk readied missiles, and Tank was set with his cannon when the pitch of the scanner changed into a sudden shriek of alarm. Jon's head snapped to Scout's direction.

"What is it?"

Scout's hands were working the scanner frantically. "I have a signal!"

"Of what?" Power demanded. Scout's hands continued to check the scanner. Power's impatience was at its peak. "Sergeant, report!"

"Captain," Scout said, almost out of breath, "I'm getting a human read on the scanner."

Power voiced the question he was afraid to ask. "Alive?"

Scout tapped the console of the scanner once more. His eyes were wide. "Yes, sir," he answered, he mouth opening in shock.

Hawk moved toward Scout to examine the scanner. "Looks like it's behind that wall of rubble."

The three ran for the wall of concrete that blocked their way to the signal. Scout continued to monitor the read. "Life signs are faint. We need to get in there fast."

Tank's rifle dropped to the ground with a clanking sound. He began pulling at the heavier pieces of concrete. Hawk and Power began climbing the pile, trying to find a way through its depths.

"Looks like there's a pocket of space behind the blockage," Scout advised. "There's a large slab, probably the floor above the corridor, on top of her. We have to careful in what debris is removed. Move too much stuff, and it's going to come down."

Hawk was breathing heavily with exertion. "Any other way in there?"

"Not that I see. The area behind it is completely collapsed."

Tank continued hurling large pieces of concrete backward. "How deep to the pocket?"

"Two meters at the most." Scout walked toward them. He took his eyes away from the readout and addressed them. "Look, that slab is being help up by this junk. If we dig through on one side, I think there will be enough to keep the pocket and allow one of us to crawl in there and get her."

Power stopped his digging and asked for the sergeant's advice. "Left or right?"

"The angle of the slab is sharp to the left. If we go right, we won't have to worry as much about it slipping. There'll still be enough there to keep it upright."

"We can shore the slab once we get to it with some of the beams back in the other hall," Tank added.

Jon took it in and found not just a good plan but indeed the only plan they had. "All right, let's do it. Tank, see what you can find to wedge into the opening once we make it."

"Right," Tank replied. He turned and headed toward the way they had come.

Scout returned to monitoring the scanner. Hawk resumed his position atop the pile of rubble and began digging once more. Two meters began to feel like a mile. By the time they had reached the halfway point to the pocket, the temperature inside the corridor had risen considerably. The air was turning foul with wafting smoke that made it acrid and heavy.

Tank gathered several pieces of steel and placed them at the foot of the pile, taking his turn excavating.

Power grew impatient. "This is taking too long!" he shouted in frustration, digging frantically.

Tank moved forward with a bar of bent metal in his hand. He moved up the pile, taking Hawk's place at the focus of the dig. With the bar, he began tearing away at the broken concrete with all his strength. It seemed to make little difference at first until the bar caught on what acted as a keystone to the wall of rubble. With both hands on the metal, he pulled until it gave.

Hawk scrambled back up the pile. He looked through the hole. "We're through!" He shone the light down into the hole.

Power moved up next to him. His heart was beating wildly, crazed with anxiety. "Do you see her?" Hawk was craning his neck through the opening, shining the light. "Do you see her?" Power repeated.

"There she is!" Hawk yelled. He pulled his head out of the opening. "She's in there, but there's not a lot of room. We need to open this hole up some more."

Without prompting, Tank moved into position and began drawing more debris away from the entrance to what was shaping up to be Pilot's tomb.

There was a soft grinding noise, a low rumble that was ominous. Scout took another reading. "You have to slow down, guys. That slab could shift if you take too much out."

Tank heeded the warning and began clearing at a more cautious rate.

Power sized up the situation in his mind and voiced his thoughts to the team. "I'm powering down. There's no way any one of us will fit through there with armor on. Hawk, head back to the jumpship and get a stretcher. We're not going to have a lot of time."

Hawk was quick to comply, handing the light to Power. "I'm on it."

At his command, Power's suit deactivated. He approached the opening and peered inside at the darkness with the light. "Jennifer?" he called. His voice died on the broken concrete inside the pocket. He yelled for her again. "Jennifer? Can you hear me?"

Silence. Then he saw her.

She looked ghostly, laying on her side, covered in the dust of the collapse. A gash at her temple allowed red to seep through, congealing with the dust to form a dark paste.

"Scout," Power called, "do you have a reading?"

Baker was urgent. "Barely. We have to get her out now, Captain."

Jon backed away from the hole and turned around to enter feet-first. He found a foothold and descended carefully into the small space, trying to ease down inside as gently as he could. His foot slipped once, smashing his shin against the sharp shards of broken concrete that made up the wall. His palms burned where they scraped against the remains of the wall. He worked his way down to the bottom of the pit until he was crouched near Jennifer's head.

Tentatively, he reached out and touched her. Her skin was cold. "Jennifer?"

Hawk's head appeared in the opening above them. "Jon, how is she?"

Power took inventory of Pilot's situation. The slab that was being supported by the rubble had just missed her legs. "I can pull her out. I'm going to lift her up. You're going to have to do the rest."

"We're ready," Hawk assured.

Jon got his hands under her shoulders, and he pulled her toward him as carefully as he could. She was limp and unmoving in his arms. As he brought her to him, a loud groan seemed to surround them. The sides of the pocket shimmered in the light as pieces of the base fell around them.

"Jon, move it!" Matt yelled. "It's not going to hold!"

Hawk was halfway inside the hole, reaching down to help bring Pilot to the surface. With every ounce of strength, Jon picked Jennifer up in his arms and moved her toward Hawk's waiting hands. Standing was a test of will as he brought her to an upright position in front of him. He dragged her to the wall and began using the ruts in the wall to climb up, all the while holding her with one arm wrapped tightly about her torso.

She felt so cold, so lifeless to him. She was alive, though, and he was determined that she would not die in the base. His back ached as he pulled her up with him. Then Hawk's hands were there, taking over when Jon knew he could not continue.

Pilot was raised up, Jon pushing from the inside the pocket while Hawk pulled from the point of freedom. Then she was out of sight. Jon began finding more footholds when a loud crack pierced his ears and he felt the world tilting. The wall he was on began to move. Just as he saw the hole vanishing, Tank appeared, holding out his hand. Jon scrambled up as fast as he could, pulled by Tank's strength.

He was catapulted through the hole just as the slab inside the pocket came crashing down on where he and Pilot had been just moments before.

Jon tumbled down the slope of rubble until he could get to his feet. He ran to Hawk, who was already tending to Jennifer on the stretcher. "How is she?"

Hawk was on the move, getting a hold of the head of the stretcher. "We need to get her to the ship now. She's bleeding internally. I can't do anything for her here."

They surrounded her, each taking a position at the stretcher and lifting their comrade to safety.

The move through the hole to the surface was swift. The team began making its way to the jumpship. Tank looked back toward the hole but kept pace. "What about Blastarr?"

Jon glanced at Matt. The opportunity to put a dent in Dread's weapons package was there for the taking. They both knew the answer, though. Pilot was dying.

"There's no time," Hawk said. "If we stop to kill Blastarr, we'll kill Pilot."

They continued toward the jumpship. Jon knew only one thing – the only thing that mattered.

Jennifer Chase was alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A Shot In The Dark**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

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Smoke from the fires still burning inside the base billowed into the jumpship's cabin as they brought Jennifer onboard. They secured her stretcher to the med bunk, where Hawk immediately went to work. There was urgency in his actions, as he began cutting through her khaki shirt. He picked through the seam of the powersuit underneath, carefully avoiding the inlaid circuitry. As he moved to cut the suit off her left arm, he stopped and picked up a scanner. Jon could tell without even looking at the scanner that her arm was fractured. The skin looked mottled with bruises, and there was a lump where the bone was pushed out against the skin.

Jon left little room for argument as he stood at the head of the bunk, refusing to leave her side. Scout and Tank stayed at a distance, all of them in fear of getting in Hawk's way as he worked to stabilize their pilot. He put Jon to use, moving his hand to hold a bandage over the deep laceration on Pilot's head.

Matt began scanning her for more injuries. Though Jon had the most basic of medical training, he could see the extent of damage. He knew what Jennifer had meant when she told him she was "all broken up inside."

"My God," Jon breathed, looking at the scanner. He stroked her head, pushing a strand of matted hair off her forehead.

"Tank, get us out of here," Hawk ordered. "Scout, contact the Passages and find us a doctor."

They complied with his orders. Power felt the shudder in the hull as the jumpship lifted off into the sky that was stark and black, the air chilly and lonely. He watched as Hawk covered Jennifer with a blanket.

"How bad is it?" Jon asked quietly.

Hawk checked the scanner for reference. "She's bleeding internally. Could be her spleen. I'm pretty sure she has a concussion, and her arm isn't looking too good, either. I can stabilize her for now using stasis, but that's not going to last. She needs a surgeon."

Scout turned in their direction from his station. "I have the Passages. Patching them through to your screen. You have about four minutes before Dread locks on to the signal."

Jon stopped Hawk's hand before it could activate the screen. Power's voice lowered. "How long can we count on stasis?"

Hawk hesitated but did not give false hope. "An hour, maybe a little more."

Hawk flipped the switch on the monitor. The screen blinked on above the med bunk. Lydia, the doctor they had helped months before, appeared before them. Her honey colored hair was pulled up high on her head, and she sat before the camera very much at ease.

"Major Masterson, this is unexpected," she said congenially.

Hawk gave no time for pleasantries. "Doctor, we have an emergency. We need your help," he told her.

The cheery disposition was replaced with concern. She straightened in her chair. "Tell me what you have."

"Our pilot has internal bleeding and a possible concussion. Some broken bones, as well. The stasis is slowing the hemorrhaging, but she needs a surgeon."

"Send me an uplink of your readings."

Hawk nodded for Scout, who complied with Lydia's request. She looked down, watching as the information was transmitted to the Passages. When she looked up again, Jon saw little hope in her eyes.

"Major, I'm not equipped to handle anything this serious here. We don't even have surgical supplies. If I tried to operate with what little I do have, I'd be killing her for sure."

Power stepped into view of the monitor. "Then where can we go?" he asked with resolution. He was in no mood for negative answers.

Lydia gave it a moment's consideration. "There's a resistance cell, supposedly located in the midwest. Look for Robertsontown. It's one of the larger settlements. We've not had any official contact with them, but we're sure they're there. Many have spoken of the 'Healer'. No one has ever seen him, but we've heard some amazing stories, ones we've been able to verify."

Hawk took another read with the scanner. "How do we find this 'Healer'?

"From what we gather, you don't go looking for the Healer. The Healer finds you."

Power felt despair creep through him like a chill, the lack of solid options angering him. After all they had fought for since the team's inception, they had not once asked for outside help. They had solved their own problems, with their own resources, managing to save lives in the process. Now, the one time they needed help, there was none available from the people they had risked their lives assisting.

Still, Jon was not in the mood to give in easily. "Is there anything you can do to get word to the Healer that we need help?"

Lydia's compassion and warmth shone in her eyes. "I'll do everything I can, Captain. In the meantime, do what you can to sustain her vitals. You're her only hope until you can find the Healer. Call me if her situation worsens." Then she added, "Good luck."

The screen blacked out as the transmission ended. Power looked down at Jennifer and watched as Hawk began using everything at hand in the medical supplies to give her a fighting chance, a chance to live.

Reluctantly, Power left Pilot's side and moved to Scout's station. "Where is Robertsontown?"

Scout was working frantically in the database. "Already looking for it. The closest match I've found so far is a Robertstown in the old archives. It's definitely midwest."

"And you think that's the place?"

"I cross-referenced its location between the archives and our own map database. There's not a whole lot between here and there, and I don't see any settlements as big as the one the doc was talking about. It's has to be Robertsontown."

"Scout, you have to be sure on this," Power admonished. "If we go to the wrong place, and this Healer isn't there . . . "

"Yes, sir, I know," Scout said, finishing the unspoken thought.

It was a gamble. Power knew it. Make the right choice, and Jennifer had a chance. Make the wrong choice, and she would die aboard the jumpship within a few hours. No matter how he weighed the options, they had to go with what they knew.

"Lay in navigation, shortest possible route," Power ordered, clapping Scout on the shoulder.

Tank prepared for the flight in the cockpit. "What about the gates? Dread has the codes. We could get jumped again if we use them."

"No choice," Power answered. "Lay in a course and get us there."

Jon returned to the medical bunk.

Hawk was working on Pilot's head, trying to stop the bleeding. "If we had a base, I'd feel a lot more confident. I could do something there. This rust bucket wasn't built to be a flying hospital."

"Anything I can do?"

Hawk stopped his work and looked up at Jon. A brief, sympathetic smile played on his lips. "Let her know you're here. Let her know she's not alone. I've done all I can for now. It's up to Jennifer to hold on until we can get help."

Then Jon was alone with her. Hawk drifted off to the cockpit to help with navigation. Jon was left to stand alone at Pilot's side. Carefully, he picked up her hand and held it in his. Her skin had warmed a little since they had found her, but death still seemed to linger so close that thought he could feel the feathery tendrils of its grip caressing his own hand.

Guilt washed over him again. He tried to push it away, but it came back with a vengeance. He refused to bow to it.

"You have to hold on, Jennifer," he whispered quietly. "There are things you need to know, but I want to say them when I can look into your eyes. We're going to find a doctor to help you, but you have to fight this. You have to do your part."

"We're preparing to enter the gate. Stand by," Hawk called.

There was a momentary feeling of buoyancy as the ship entered the gate. Jon felt disoriented but only for a few seconds before they exited on the other side. He still held Pilot's hand and swore he felt her grasp his fingers just briefly before they were slack and lifeless once more.

"On course to Robertsontown," Scout reported. "E.T.A. nine minutes. We're going to have to set down outside of the populated area."

Jon hated to leave Jennifer's side, but he knew it was necessary if she were to have a chance. He moved back to Scout's station. "We'll use the bike to make it into town. Scan for an area where we can land without being noticed."

The sergeant continued to work his console. "Already on it, Captain." He examined the results of his work. "Looks like there's an area just outside of town that doesn't have a lot of traffic. I'll keep an eye out on your approach. Right now, it looks pretty deserted."

"Seems like our best bet," Power concurred. "Hawk, you're with me. Tank, you and Scout will stay with the ship. If you see trouble coming, you're ordered to take off and do what you can. Hawk and I will go into town and find the Healer, if he's there."

Hawk rose from his place in the cockpit and walked toward Power. "What's the plan?"

"I wish I knew." Power shook his head. "We'll go in and see what we can find. If the Healer isn't here, we'll look for someone who can help Pilot."

Power began moving toward the hatch. Hawk stopped him by the arm. "And if we can't find someone?"

Jon's frustration and anger bubbled to the surface again. "That's not an option," he said with solid determination, his jaw tightening.

The landing area Scout had picked was desolated and dark. The only light came from the landing beacons on the underside of the jumpship. Hawk and Tank retrieved the sky bike from the hold and prepared it for flight.

Jon gave a final set of instructions to Scout and Tank. "Keep a channel open in case we need a quick exit."

Scout nodded. "What about Pilot?"

Hawk handed him the scanner. "Keep checking her. If the stasis begins to fail, contact us. I'll come back to the ship."

Scout accepted the scanner in his hand and looked at it. "Right."

Jon fired the engine on the sky bike and hit the throttle. It lifted into the sky with ease, carrying the two men toward Robertsontown. The trip was short, but it allowed Jon time to absorb what had transpired that day. In a short amount of time, the base his father had built had been destroyed, and for the first time, one of his team had been seriously injured. It was never an impossibility to him, but it also not something he had entirely envisioned. They had all taken painful hits from Blastarr and Soaron. However, they had all managed to walk away in the end.

Pilot could have walked away, he knew, but chose to stay. She had taken up Jon's cause, believing in him when she found it so hard to believe in herself. She thought of him as a sort of savior. The truth was that Jennifer was the one who had kept the team alive by her sacrifice. Jon could only to sit back and watch from a distance, knowing she had taken to heart the words he had spoken to her when he brought her to the team.

"What do you say we circle around and get a feel for the place before we land?" Hawk suggested.

Night had fallen, blanketing the sky in a shroud of darkness. The air was turning crisp as winter approached. The cloud cover provided adequate camouflage for the flight.

Jon began circling the town from high altitude. Robertsontown was not just a settlement. It bordered on a large town in its size, not the usual settlement size of most clusters of survivors. The inhabitants roamed the streets en masse as the nightlife began to stir. Jon could hear music playing inside the establishments even at the sky bike's altitude. Drum fires burned, accompanied by the flash of dazzling lights that emanated from the facades of the bars and shops. From the look of the foot traffic on the streets, the party was just beginning.

Activity on one of the side streets caught Power's eye, and he dropped down for a better look. Two men were brawling. A crowd gathered around them, hollering encouragement and cheers for each blow landed.

"Friendly little town, isn't it?" Hawk mused through the comm.

"Let's hope so, because we're starting the search at that bar."

"Seriously?"

"The Healer's not a public figure. He's resistance, and resistance in towns like this meet in places like that."

He sensed Hawk's dismay as silence lingered.

"Well, then," Hawk said, finally, "we better get to it."

They set down just outside of town and secured the bike to voice command. The air was decidedly warmer on the surface, and Jon welcomed the relief it brought. He was about to set off for the bar when Hawk stopped him.

"It's your call, but I think we better go in unarmed," he said, nodding toward Power's holstered pistol.

"And it could be a mistake if we don't bring weapons," Jon countered.

"We saw a fistfight from the air, not a shootout. I'm willing to lay odds there aren't a lot of weapons on hand. If we go in there armed, we'll be run out of town before we can even start looking for the Healer."

It was the last thing Jon wanted or needed to hear. Although the choice had been an easy one, the disappointment of not finishing the job with Blastarr when they had the chance was gnawing at him. He had no desire for a second helping of regrets, and that included ones that involved being outnumbered and maybe outgunned.

Still, Hawk had a point. The sight of weapons might ignite a confrontation before due time, and that was not something they needed. Time was running out to find help for Pilot.

"All right – we'll stow them in the bike. Just keep your eyes open while we're in there, though."

Hawk grinned. "I was going to do that anyway, my friend."

The crowds they had seen from the air provided a perfect way for them to slip into the town. It was easy to blend in with them, as loud music blasted from the doorways of taverns and specialty shops. The bar where Jon wanted to begin was a block away from where they had hidden the sky bike amid cargo containers.

There were several food vendors on the streets. The scents ranged from the wonderful to the strange. The scene was surreal and full of more life than Jon had seen in months. It was clear that Dread's influence in the midwest was not as devastating as it had been in the far west. Either the cells of resistance in this part of the country were strong, or Dread simply had not created enough forces to infiltrate the stronghold of human will to live.

By the time they had reached the bar, the fight had disappeared. The patrons had drifted back inside where music was booming. Jon and Matt slipped inside the door and found a small table to the side.

"What now?" Hawk yelled over the din.

Jon looked about the bar, seeing a myriad of roughnecks, all milling about and talking. One by one, heads turned toward them. They were strangers among people who relied on familiarity for security. One man, in particular, stared at them. He was large, and Power was willing to wager that the guy would have given Tank a run for his money in a fight. He said something to the bartender that set things in motion very quickly.

The music cut off, bringing the attention of everyone in the bar on Power and Hawk. Jon's stomach tightened, realizing things were happening too quickly. The burly guy made a line for their table and stood square before it. He crossed his arms, displaying huge bare biceps that bulged with muscle. His blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the stubble on his face said that shaving was not a priority.

"You don't belong here," he said in a deep, gruff voice.

Jon sat passively. "I'm looking for someone, the Healer."

The man laughed with a bellow. The others around him joined him. "The Healer, eh?" He got down close to Jon's face. "There's a magic shop on the next block. Maybe the witch there can give you some potions," he said with a raucous bellow that ignited another round of laughter.

"That's very helpful of you," Jon said. "I'll take it under advisement."

The smile on the man's face disappeared. It was replaced with a look of mounting impatience. He got even closer to Jon's face. "I don't like you," he said more quietly.

"Sorry you feel that way," Jon replied. In his periphery, he could see Hawk inching away from the table, preparing for what seemed inevitable.

"I don't like you, and I'm sure I don't like your friend, there," the man said, nodding toward Hawk. Others in the bar began circling the table, like sharks about to enter a feeding frenzy.

Jon had no need of confrontation. As Hawk had pointed out before they arrived at the tavern, a fight only meant they would be delayed in looking for others who might know the Healer. He eyed the man intently.

"We were just leaving," he said evenly.

The man nodded, patronizing Power. "Oh, you can say that again."

His hands reached out and grabbed Jon by the collar, lifting him out of the seat. Before Power could react, his arm was cinched up behind his back. He was propelled toward the tavern door, with Hawk receiving much the same treatment. The bar erupted in cheers and catcalls as the man pushed toward the door.

Just before he was through the doorway, the man deviated in their path to the outside and slammed Jon against the wall.

"Meet me out back in five minutes," the man muttered quickly in Power's ear. Then he hurled Jon out into the street.

The dirt road was hard. Jon was stunned briefly when his head hit the roadway. He recovered in time to see Hawk tossed out the tavern and propelled forward at the hands of the man's friends. Hawk lay on the ground next to Jon, looking up at the night sky. The street traffic paid little attention to the two prone bodies in the street. They walked around the two men and continued on as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Well, I think that went pretty good for our first time," Hawk said wryly, brushing off some of the dry dirt of the street. It billowed out in little puffs of smoke that caught in his throat and made him cough.

Jon got up and helped Hawk to his feet. "Follow me." He set off for the end of the block.

"Where are we going?" Hawk asked, keeping pace.

Jon hoped his instincts were on the mark. "I think we just found the Healer."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Out Of The Fires**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

-------------

Volcania loomed like monster, rising dark and vast from the remains of Detroit. Home to the machines that had spelled doom for hundreds of millions of human beings worldwide, it pulsed with artificial life created by its master, Lord Dread.

Dread stayed within its walls, loathing the thought of contact with any remaining organics that had managed to survive. Soon, he would have no need for concern. Overmind's work was completed. Once Dread's consciousness was transferred into the mechanical body of the machine's design, his transformation would be complete. He would be able to think commands instead of verbalizing, which was a terrible waste of time when there was so much work to be done. When he finally merged with the new machine, a new era would begin. Humanity would be vanquished forever.

There remained one point of unfinished business. Jonathan Power, son of Stuart Gordon Power, should have died sixteen years earlier. As it was, Stuart sacrificed himself to save his son, whom the then Lyman Taggart had taken hostage. An explosion killed the scientist. In the process, the former Taggart, Stuart's research partner, was badly injured. When he awoke, he found much of his human physiology replaced by machine, a gift from Overmind and the machines they had been developing to put an end to the mech wars.

It was the new beginning, the new insight Taggart had thirsted for during all those years of research. The government was ignorant, not willing to move as fast as Lyman knew his research demanded. Overmind required engrams, patterns of human thought and memory, to build its core. The world was there for the taking to feed Overmind. The machines created to bring about an end to the wars of the world stood ready to take what was needed to bring about a new age, a new world.

Soaron, the superior machine built to lead the mechanized ground troops, was a faithful servant to Dread. In contrast to Blastarr, who was built for strength over intelligence, Soaron's programming was a case of lightning in a bottle. It was the first machine Lyman and Stuart created. The intention was to give it superior knowledge and thinking skills over the drones used as foot soldiers. Soaron viewed the result of the battle between the two scientists as more an equation of who was victor and who had lost. Its programming told it to follow the superior of the two.

As much as Dread hated to admit it, he relied on Soaron's abilities to do what he could not. It had become Dread's eyes and ears in the face of battle. Now, with Blastarr's fate uncertain, Soaron might very well be the only large machine left in the new army.

The cryo chamber was quiet except for this distant roar of the power generators. Dread preferred it that way. Interruptions served only to distract him from his train of thought. He relished the thought that interruptions would soon not be an issue. Until Overmind was ready, though, Dread was a prisoner of the human world.

"Soaron," Dread called, "report."

A screen winked on in the wall next to the cryogenic freezer where Dread would spend the next thirty-six hours. A sleek, birdlike machine appeared, its ruby red eyes glowing. Soaron was in flight, the setting sun in the background contrasting with the smoke emanating from the remains of Power's base.

"My lord, the Powerbase has been destroyed," Soaron informed.

"Completely?"

"Completely, my lord."

Dread mulled the possibilities. Even if the charges for the self-destruct had been extremely effective, there might well be something of use in the rubble. One item, in particular, piqued his interest. Blastarr's last report showed that one of Power's team was inside the base. The acquisition of a Powersuit would be the greatest prize Dread could have hoped for.

"Search the remains of the base. Recover Blastarr, and bring me Youth Leader Chase's Powersuit."

Soaron gave a slight nod of its head. "As you wish, my lord."

The screen went dark. Dread leaned back in his throne, relishing the possibilities, the way the world was changing in his favor.

Soon. It would all happen so soon.

"Dread," Overmind called, its orb glowing in the corner of the chamber.

"What is it, Overmind?" Dread answered distractedly.

"Preparations for the cerebral transfer are on schedule. The transfer will take approximately thirty-six hours. During that time, you will not be conscious."

Dread had known it to be a factor, but it had not been of concern until the Prometheus incident. "Yes, I know."

Overmind's mechanical flange undulated slightly faster, almost in agitation. "Volcania is vulnerable to attack with the damage from the Icarus impact. There is no guarantee of protection against a raid from Power's team or other resistance forces."

Dread mulled the fact for a moment. It was a thought he had considered before, but there were no alternatives. Time was of the essence. His trust in Overmind was waning of late. Dread had Laccki dispatched because it was reporting to Overmind. That much he knew for certain. Certain safeguards, ones unknown to Overmind, had been installed in Dread's favor. All that was required now was the unit's cooperation to achieve total transfer.

"I have considered that possibility," Dread said, elaborating. "Volcania will be fortified with troops against attack. During my transfer, there will be no offensive actions taken. All available units will return to base and defend against any enemy incursions. Shields will be at maximum around the transfer area."

Dread fought to control his anger, a dangerous human emotion that sometime caused mistakes. He reminded himself that Overmind was nothing more than a program of his own design, one that was the imprint of his very being. In a sense, Dread was arguing with himself, albeit a mutated version. He smiled in spite of himself at the contradiction.

"This strategy failed with Prometheus," Overmind pointed out, its orb flashing in muted colors.

"Then it will be up to you to see that it does not this time," Dread said plainly. "The survival of the New Order depends upon it. What is the status of Blastarr?"

"Communications have not been reestablished, but there is a signal."

"Time to regeneration?"

"Unknown."

Dread considered the loss of Blastarr in the arsenal. While Blastarr lacked the air superiority that the Soaron unit gave, it was more than adequate in ground protection. If Blastarr could not be located and repaired, provisions would have to be made to replace it in the mechanical forces. Once the cerebral transfer was complete, Dread was confident he would be able to build a unit that was stronger and more intelligent than Blastarr and Soaron combined.

"Keep me apprised of Blastarr's status."

"As you wish, Dread."

Yes, thought Dread, it _is_ as I wish. He wished the cerebral transfer to be already complete, that the furnaces had already consumed his human form. He knew, however, that all things came in time. Patience was essential if domination were to come about in the world.

Soon. It would all happen so very soon.


	4. Chapter 4

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 4**

**Saving Grace**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

The alley was dark but for a single bulb of light that cast eerie shadows on old cargo containers stacked along the walkway. The area was empty, quiet except for the steady thrum of music permeating the brick of the bars that faced outward toward the street. Jon wished he had not listened to Hawk and had carried a pistol. The alley smacked of danger, setting all of his senses on edge.

Hawk followed close behind him. "You sure about this, Jon? Feels like a setup."

Someone spoke from behind the crates to their left. "Lucky for you, it's not."

Jon spun around, focusing in on the voice. The man who had thrown him out of the bar stepped from the shadows. He leaned against the crates and folded his arms.

"Are you the Healer?" Jon asked.

The man shook his head. "No, I'm Holcomb. You might call me the Healer's 'agent'. No one sees the Healer unless I approve it, so state your business and do it fast."

Jon stepped forward. "I'm Captain Jon Power. This is Major Masterson. We run a resistance cell to the west, in the desert. Our pilot's been seriously wounded in a firefight with a biodread. She needs a doctor."

Holcomb raised an eyebrow. "A biodread, eh? We don't get too many of them around here. What was its interest in your pilot?"

Hawk grew impatient. "Her charming personality," he snapped. "Look, are you going to help us or not? If not, we're wasting what time she has left to find someone who can."

Holcomb stood unfazed by Hawk's ire. He unfolded his arms and hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Where's your pilot?"

Jon felt a surge of hope. "Aboard our jumpship, about two clicks south of town."

Holcomb paused, locking his eyes to Jon's. Jon did not waver.

Then the man nodded. "All right, let's go." Holcomb opened a channel on his wrist communicator. "Sanders, this is Holcomb. Meet us at the south entrance with a transport. Alert Sanctuary that we have incoming wounded . . . and wake up the Healer."

"Acknowledged," a man responded. Holcomb turned and started toward the street.

"We have a sky bike," Jon said, following. "It'll get us there quickly."

"Yeah, and leave a bright signature for the overunits to find. The last thing we need right now is a raid. We'll need a transport to move your pilot anyway."

"You all seem to have quite a setup going here," Hawk said. "How is it everyone else can't breathe without Dread forces coming down on them and you have all this?"

Holcomb gave a smirk. "When you feed the big monster what it likes to eat, its belly stays full."

_Whatever that meant_, Jon said to himself. At that very moment, he really did not care what it all meant or how the people of Robertsontown managed to live so well.

They threaded through the crowded street, which had heavier traffic now. The south end of town was even busier, with at least a dozen vehicles parked at odd angles. A young man was standing on the running board of one, motioning to Holcomb who returned the signal and led them to what looked like an old sand racer.

"Get in and hold on," Holcomb said, climbing into the front seat. "If you're hoping for a smooth ride, this ain't going to be it."

Jon got in, grabbing on to the roll bar for support as he slipped into the back seat. Hawk followed suit. The racer reminded him of the vehicles they sometimes found abandoned beneath the sand in the desert. Roll bars, as his father once told him they were called, boxed the vehicle in to prevent the occupants from being crushed if the racer overturned. This one had been outfitted with a payload area in the back, clearly a platform that was not originally intended to be on the buggy.

Sanders hit the ignition, and the engine sparked to life. Jon felt the steady vibration of the motor, impressed that it sounded so quiet and tuned.

Holcomb turned around as Sanders pulled away from Robertsontown. "Show us where to go."

Hawk, who was seated behind Sanders, leaned forward to give directions.

Holcomb addressed Power. "Tell me what happened."

Jon put his hand on the roll bar to steady himself as the transport picked up speed. "We're still not sure how Dread found our base except that we know that Blastarr managed to go through the jumpgate. We're sure our gate system has been compromised. Our pilot was ambushed at our command center."

Power fought his emotions as he continued. "She was alone when Blastarr and a unit of biomechs showed up. She blew the power core and destroyed the base before Blastarr could get any information."

Holcomb listened intently, incredulous at Power's last statement. "She was inside the base when it blew?"

Hawk joined the tale. "Yeah. The blast caused the floor to collapse. Created a pocket with enough room to keep the upper floors from falling in on her."

The transport hit a bump in the terrain, and Holcomb now took hold of the roll bar, as well. "What do you think is wrong with her?"

Hawk recounted his initial diagnosis for Holcomb. "We have limited stasis on the jumpship. What's available won't last much longer."

Their new ally faced forward again and made a call using the radio in the transport's dashboard. The sound of wind whistling through the open-top transport made it impossible to hear his words.

Hawk continued directing Sanders toward the jumpship until it could be seen in the distance. Power called to let Tank and Scout know of their approach.

"We're on our way," he told them.

Then they were upon the jumpship. Before Sanders could bring the transport to a complete stop, Holcomb was out of the cab and heading for the ramp leading into the fuselage. He might have made it all the way inside had Tank not stopped him with a large hand to the chest.

Jon rushed forward and stepped between them, effectively blocking Tank from Holcomb before a confrontation could ensue.

"He's okay," Jon said. "He's going to take Pilot to the Healer."

Tank gave Holcomb a nod, trusting his commanding officer's judgment, and let him pass. Jon was on Holcomb's heels as they entered the jumpship. To the left, Scout stood at the med bunk, monitoring Pilot's condition. He moved away as they approached.

"Something's wrong," Scout announced with alarm. "I was just about to call you. The scanner's showing a drop in her vitals."

Holcomb moved to the med bunk and examined the readings. Alarms began to ping and whine suddenly as the stasis began to fail.

Hawk moved forward to help. "We're losing her!"

Holcomb remained calm but resolved. "No, we're not going to lose her."

He activated his wrist communicator again. "Sanders, I need an A.L.S. unit up here, on the double."

The letters focused Jon on Holcomb. "What's A.L.S.?"

Holcomb reached for Pilot's head to check the wound there, lifting the blood-soaked bandage. "Advanced Life Support. It's similar to stasis, but damage to the organs from long-term use is much less severe."

Sanders' boots clanked against the ramp of the jumpship as he carried a case into the hull. Holcomb took hold of the handle and sat it on the med bunk. Inside was a monitor similar to the one that sat above the med bunk but definitely an upgrade.

Another alarm rang out, and Holcomb finally seemed disconcerted. He began deploying the medical devices from the kit more quickly.

Sanders assisted by calling out readings to Holcomb. "Stasis integrity at four percent. One minute to failure," he reported.

Holcomb withdrew a small curved device from the kit and moved to the head of the med bunk. He gently rolled Jennifer's head to the side, exposing the carotid artery.

"Integrity at two percent. Thirty seconds to failure," Sanders said, doggedly watching the readings.

The tension built among Power's crew as they watched Holcomb activate the device. A needle issued forth from the edge, and he brought it to her neck.

Jon's panic rose uncontrollably as he watched Jennifer's life slipping away on the readouts. The sight of the device pushed his anxiety to its limit. "What are you doing?!"

Hawk's hand was a steadying force on Power's shoulder, keeping him at bay from the work at the med bunk.

Holcomb paid no attention to the outburst. He brought the needle to the skin of Pilot's neck and inserted it with purpose into the artery.

"Fifteen seconds to total failure," Sanders said coolly.

Holcomb's concentration was acute. "Almost there." He continued to insert the needle, watching the readout on the device.

The cabin was silent with heavy anticipation, the only sound coming from Sanders' countdown.

"Five seconds to failure."

Holcomb looked up quickly. "Got it! Go!"

Sanders hit the command panel in the kit and activated the A.L.S. system. Pilot's body jerked up in response. A weak seizure overtook her, but Holcomb was quick to calm Power's crew.

"It's okay," he assured them, holding Pilot's head in his hands. "It happens when a patient transitions from stasis to A.L.S. It'll pass in a second."

Sanders handed Holcomb a tiny vial of amber liquid. Holcomb used one hand to insert it into the A.L.S. device. Almost immediately, Pilot's tremors slowed until she was deathly still. Another stab of panic rushed through Jon as he looked at the monitors to make sure she was alive.

A fleeting look of relief wash over Holcomb's face before the man was in charge of his emotions once more. Holcomb blew out a breath that puffed his cheeks. His large hand went to Pilot's forehead in a gesture of comfort.

"You're safe now, sweetheart," he said, stroking her hair. "You're safe."

Holcomb looked up at Hawk and said, "We just bought her three more hours. It's up to the Healer to do the rest."

He told Sanders to prepare the transport and began detaching the stretcher from the wall. Hawk unfastened the clamps at the other end and lifted in tandem with Holcomb. Power followed behind them as they carried Pilot toward the ramp and out of the jumpship. He stopped when he saw Tank and Scout waiting by the cockpit, watching the stretcher pass.

"I need the two of you to stay with the jumpship," Power said. He saw the impending protest building but stopped them, saying, "This rust bucket is all we have left. If anything happens, you're under orders to take off and regroup. It'll be up to you to make sure the resistance doesn't fail."

Tank's eyes closed solemnly but he said nothing. Scout watched as Holcomb and Hawk carried Pilot out into the cool night air.

"You take care of her, Captain," the sergeant said quietly.

Power nodded. "Count on it."

Outside, Hawk and Holcomb loaded Pilot into the cargo space of the transport, strapping her in tightly. Holcomb now took a seat in the back with Hawk while Power rode up front with Sanders.

A break in the clouds allowed the moon to illuminate the plains on which they rode. The area was vast and deserted except for the glow of Robertsontown in front of them. Sanders did not bring them back to the south entrance where they had departed from earlier. Instead, he took a route to the western side of the town that had not yet managed to resurrect itself from the days of the Metal Wars. Rubble was strewn everywhere. In what was once a bustling city laid buildings that had toppled and left small mountains of crushed concrete in the streets.

The moon was high enough to light their way. Sanders left the vehicle's lights off as they picked their way through the debris using deliberately cleared paths through the wreckage.

Power looked back to check on Jennifer. Holcomb was reaching over to steady her head with two large hands to keep the A.L.S. device in place. Jon could see the device now. It formed to the curvature of her neck, three inches of black material with a digital readout. He had no choice but to trust that Holcomb was saving her life with it. Watching the thick needle slide into her skin had seemed violent somehow, gruesome and vulgar. So much of the damned war had been just that – gruesome and vulgar.

Sanders reached down for the transport's radio. "This is Sanders. We're at the back door."

Sanders took them into one of the few standing buildings in the area. Jon looked up and counted at least six stories inside what looked like it used to be a central meeting place of some sort. Bare walkways that made up the floors above them looked odd and naked without any guard against someone falling. Then he saw the glass on the floor, walls shattered into tiny diamonds of ruin. Jon looked up at the floors above them as the transport pulled into the atrium of the building. Only then did he notice the roof was gone, probably made of glass, as well, that had been blown out of its frame so long ago.

Sanders drove slowly into the atrium, following swept paths through the glass and ruins toward a darkened area opposite the entrance. The sound of the engine reflected off the walls in eerie echoes that relayed how large the building was with all its darkened corners. Jon caught movement above them in his periphery. Armed human sentries stepped from the shadows to look down upon them as they entered deeper into lobby area.

Hawk turned toward Jon and gave a minute jerk of his head to alert Power of the sentries. Jon acknowledged it but said nothing. There was nothing to be done but trust Holcomb and his crew to do the right thing.

The transport pulled toward the shadows where the doors to an elevator shaft were open. The opaque black inside made it look almost solid in contrast with the moonlit objects near it. Sanders placed a call on the transport's radio once more. "We're on the back porch."

Holcomb exited the transport and rounded the end to the cargo area. Jon kept an eye on the balconies as they processed, stretcher in hand, toward the elevator shaft. A sentry met them, a man Jon did not see in the shadows at first due to the black clothing the guard wore. The stranger took over carrying duties from Holcomb.

Holcomb used his communicator again. "Send the car. The clock's ticking."

Jon felt a rumbling in the floor as a generator kicked on somewhere in the distance. The dark rectangle of the elevator shaft began glowing as a car neared the level's entrance. A bright light split the darkness as the car rose into view. Pain stabbed through Jon's eyes as the blinding jolt pierced his vision as the doors opened.

Holcomb stepped into the car, followed by Hawk and the sentry who were carrying Pilot. Sanders followed Jon. In the stark brightness of the elevator car, he wished it had remained dark, for he could now see just how badly injured Jennifer Chase really was. The right side of her face was bruised and swollen. Dried blood had turned the collar of her uniform to a rust color. The deformity in her left wrist was even more pronounced than he had first noticed on the jumpship.

Jon held her hand as Holcomb checked the positioning of the A.L.S. The car began to descend, causing a feeling of momentary weightlessness when it began to drop. Every few moments, Pilot's body would flinch, as if in rebellion of the artificial means keeping her alive.

"When we get down there," Holcomb said, examining Pilot further, "you're going to be searched for weapons. Don't make these people nervous. They have no problem shooting you."

Hawk held the stretcher tightly in his hands. "After all the trouble we've gone through? We've had too much fun to ruin it now."

Jon ignored Hawk's sarcasm, drawn to a sudden tightening of Jennifer's hand around his own. "What's wrong with her? Why does she keep doing that?"

Holcomb looked up at him. "I'm not sure. We'll know more once we get down below."

The elevator car descended for another half a minute until it came to rest at its destination. The doors slid open. Jon looked up, expectantly. A young man and an older woman stood there with an empty gurney. His attention was on the area behind them, though. It was modern and clean, as Jon remembered civilization before Dread had destroyed everything. The walls gleamed in cleanliness, a look foreign to what he knew. Even his father's lab had been dank and laden with cold cement. This place was like a shiny new coin, out of place in a very dull world.

Holcomb urged them forward, instructing Hawk to get the hard-backed stretcher on to the gurney. The attendants turned the gurney to the right, down a dimly lit hall. Holcomb took the lead, pulling the cart along toward a triage area. He made a left turn and brought Jennifer into a treatment area.

Jon and Hawk were greeted by four guards. They turned the two toward a wall to be searched. It flashed through Jon's mind briefly that Hawk might have been carrying a backup weapon, but that fear was allayed when the guards released them to enter the triage area. The guards followed close behind the two men as they entered. Holcomb was bringing the response team into full swing.

"We in stage two A.L.S. conversion with seizure activity. I want a body scan and a full support unit in here now," Holcomb ordered. "Where's the Healer?"

"On the way," the older woman to the side reported.

The room was full of diagnostic equipment Jon had not seen since his days of his father's projects, machines to monitor biological readings of a patient on the edge of death. The monitors issued warnings as each was attached to Pilot's body, large crimson signs of her critical condition.

Holcomb gave a passing glance to Power as he worked. "Captain, how long would you say she was down there?"

Jon snapped his attention to reality. "A half hour, maybe a little more."

The older woman began cutting material around Pilot's wrist, slicing into the dark blue fabric of the Powersuit. Another seizure gripped Jennifer's body, this time stronger and more violent. Holcomb held her torso steady with a bulked arm.

The hallway outside the triage area was dark, but Jon saw the silhouette of a figure approach. He could hear a dull mechanical thump as the figure walked into the medical area. He saw the dull glow of a red light near the right eye of the leading shadow. To the left and right, two more followed, mechanical clanking feet sounding like shockwaves off the modern walls. Jon realized the two behind the figure were anything but human. They were machines, the breed of Dread's biomechanical foot soldiers.

Jon lunged toward Pilot to get her out of their reach. He was caught from behind by one of the guards who held both arms securely just as his hand brushed the sheet of the gurney. Hawk was similarly subdued. Holcomb looked up from Pilot.

"Just go with the flow, Captain, and everything will be okay," he admonished, concentrating on Pilot more than the struggle in the doorway of the triage area. "Don't make things more difficult."

The figure in the hallway entered the triage area. It was inhuman. Part mechanical, part biological, Jon saw a nightmarish similarity to Dread.

"Holcomb, damn you!" yelled Power. "What have you done?!"

"It's not what you think, Captain," Holcomb responded, continuing to hold Pilot still. "This is the Healer."

Jon struggled even more against the grip of the guards until the Healer gave a nod. Then he felt a sting in the middle of his back that knocked the wind out of him. He went crashing to the flooring, hearing Hawk drop down next to him a second later. The last thing he saw was the Healer stepping into view, a mechanical leg blocking his view of Pilot. Then the world went black and silent as Jon slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Genesis**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

-------------

"Dread."

Overmind's synthesized voice broke Dread's reverie, bringing him to the present. "What is it, Overmind?"

"Soaron unit reports that Blastarr's remains are scattered over a large area and will be difficult to recover. Time to regeneration is unknown."

Dread had been anticipating Blastarr might have suffered in the attack of the base, but Overmind's confirmation was still disappointing. Blastarr would be essential to the continued success of the New Order. While it would be feasible to build a new unit in the future, it would take time. It would be more efficient to repair Blastarr and install upgrades as necessary than to begin with an entirely new unit before the his own transfer into the online world was complete. The structure of the biodreads was unique, reliant upon the complex network of engrams used to create Overmind. Human subjects were becoming scarce.

He had expected Power's base to be empty for Blastarr's attack, assuming that the entire team was aboard the ship spotted by the observation units. It had been an error in judgment, and it soon became an issue when Jennifer Chase confronted Blastarr in the halls of the base. She had ruined the plan by manually activating the self-destruct sequence in the base, but the situation was still salvageable.

Dread brought Soaron's image up on the status screen. He felt a surge of determination that every detail would be fulfilled his way, because destiny had told him it was to be.

Soaron appeared on the screen, mid-flight over its assigned quadrant – Power's former base of operations.

"Soaron," Dread commanded, "you will recover as much of Blastarr as possible."

"The task will be difficult, my lord," Soaron explained dispassionately, its voice whining over the comm. "The blast radius of Power's base is large."

"Unacceptable," Dread countered sharply. "Recover Blastarr's remains. Use whatever means necessary."

"As you wish, my lord," Soaron replied with a slight dip of its head.

"What of Youth Leader Chase? Have you recovered her remains and the powersuit?"

"My lord," Soaron said, "all scans for organic remains have been negative."

Shock rippled through Dread. "What?"

He had been envisioning the scene of the traitor's demise that he knew would hurt Jon Power to the core. Even a blast of that magnitude should have left some remnants of vulnerable human flesh in the remains.

"No organic matter has been detected on sensors."

While not a critical point of his plan, he had been looking forward to dissecting the hardware that protected Power's team. Without the suit, there would be no advantage to be gained. More than that, he relished the thought of a worldwide broadcast displaying her body for all to see, especially Jon Power. Still, it could only mean one thing.

"So," said Dread more to himself than Soaron, "Power did make it back. He's more resourceful than expected." He addressed Soaron again. "Continue Blastarr's recovery and report to Volcania as soon as you have found all that you can. I want that base secured."

Dread lay on his back in the surgical room as workers prepared him for cryostasis. He anticipated the moment when the body he had would be gone and his world would be the ecstasy of cybernetics and perfection.

Two workers began disassembling his skullcap, carefully removing the ocular device over the right eye that had been destroyed in his confrontation with Stuart Power. He thought about Stuart, allowing himself permission to contemplate what his former research partner would think of the state of the world. He would allow himself that luxury of weakness while human hands touched his head to prepare him for the cerebral transfer.

Both he and Stuart believed machines were the answer to bring about peace in the world, except that Stuart did not see the ultimate perfection machines could bring. He had no vision of the flawlessness of a machine world, where mathematics and logic were the language and he was the ruler. He would command perfection because, soon, he would _be_ perfection. War would no longer be an option because it was illogical. Mathematical computation would determine the strongest, the fittest most deserving to survive. Human emotion would no longer be a factor in determining the victor.

The process was simple, really. It was a matter of finding uninterrupted time to complete the transfer. Jon Power's team was always interfering with his plans, alcways trying to salvage humanity when it should have known to give up the fight.

Dread took a pleasure even he admitted bordered on perverse in knowing Youth Leader Chase had been brought to machine justice. He reveled in the pain it must have caused the rebels. Power may have recovered her body, but she had been summarily vanquished by her own hand. In the end, she had brought about her own death as a result of her lack of vision, by her humanity. She had failed, much to his disappointment, to see the ultimate reward of a world ruled by machines and their intellectual perfection. She would have been an asset to his empire. He even envisioned the glorious moment when she might be a part of it. He had not been blind to her abilities. She was gifted. Up until she betrayed his empire, she had been a beacon of the next generation of youth, leading those around her to victory over the savage remains of the human race.

Assuming there was anything left for Power to recover, it was not likely a pleasant sight. The notion softened, if only temporarily, the sting of losing Blastarr from his ground forces. If Soaron could find enough of Blastarr, the ground attack unit could be regenerated with the right resources. He would see to it personally once his transfer to the cybernetic world had been completed.

The cool air of the ventilation system hit his skin as the cap was removed from his face. He winced as it assaulted the painfully sensitive skin that lay damaged under the shell. His vision went dark in the right orbit as the mechanical eyepiece was lifted away from its seat. The lens provided him with information the human eye could only imagine. He could magnify the tiniest object, discern heat signatures, or see light spectrums all with a thought. That was something that only a machine could do, something only possible through perfection and a complete willingness to take that final step into a new existence.

Inasmuch as he did not want to admit it, he feared his own death would result during the transfer. Accidents were an accepted part of research and an accepted part of the scientific pioneering that had propelled the human race into new realms of technology. Without loss, there could never have been gain. Experimentation – literally the taking of chances with the unknown – tempted the lines of fate and destiny. Those who survived experimentation achieved destiny. Those who did not met fate. Dread's survival was a sign to him that he was one bound for destiny, not fated to die as the organics were. They were filthy, unfit for existence. He was perfection in the making.

Still, he considered the idea that not all circumstances were equal in the scientific world. He, himself, had manipulated the environment to experiments in order to achieve the most advantageous outcome. The others who worked with him in the early research days did not understand that, in order to move forward, it was necessary move past trivial points like safety to get to the final product. Dread knew what had to be done, but the others had not yet caught up to his vision of the future. His fellow researchers would meet their deaths with the rise of the machines a few short years later. Stuart Power wanted to follow government rules where engrams were concerned. Lyman Taggart knew time was being wasted when all projects like Soaron and Blastarr needed was that one small step to become a reality.

Just as Dread had bent the laws of probability and science for his own benefit, he weighed the possibility that Overmind might do the same while he was incapacitated during the transfer. After all, he was the foundation of Overmind's programming, an imprint of Dread's brain put in machine form. Overmind could learn. That feature was vital when it was built. It had to have the ability to calculate, to adjust to new input and new events that fell outside known parameters. It had to think.

Thinking was just what it had been doing over the last few months. Overmind had gone so far as to enlist Lackki as a spy. Dread had suspected the android was conducting surveillance on Overmind's behalf. To what end, though? He cycled through the possibilities, but none of them aligned correctly with Overmind's abilities to think so independently. It was still a program, one capable of being terminated.

One incident nagged at Dread, and it had repeated itself to him since the Icarus impact. Overmind had complained of pain. Its systems had been damaged, yes. What was disturbing was the fact that the machine equated the damage to pain, a physical sensation. He had been careful to monitor Overmind's level of sentience, but he could not help but worry that something had been missed. A fully sentient Overmind meant that it was as untrustworthy as a human being and subject to emotion.

Ironically, Dread was about to place his life in Overmind's virtual hands. He did not do so without safeguards, though. Dread had been the driving force behind Overmind's creation. As with anything he created, he included failsafe measures to guard against his demise at the power of his innovations. He was reminded that his creations were becoming more complex. Even Blastarr had equated damage to pain. He could not dismiss the possibility that Overmind was transferring its traits to the biodreads, thus creating a problem. The complexity of the machines was bordering on consciousness, and that line of sentience was fast approaching. Independent thinking was an asset only if it could be controlled. He wanted his machines to make decisions on their own, but he did not want them straying from his vision of a perfect machine world.

Overmind gave the appearance of dangerous thinking by using Lackki as a spy. If Dread had realized there was reason to monitor Overmind outside the devices already in place, he might have done the same. The equalizing factor was that both he and Overmind desired a total annihilation of organic existence. Organics were a disease, an imperfect lot who allowed emotion to get in the way of domination. Coexistence was not an option. The machines would prevail, and they would do so with Dread's transfer to the electronic world.

Up to that point, Overmind had only approached the line of sentience. Dread would make it a reality. He would do so in a way that contradicted the theoretical model feared by so many scientists through the ages. It was not that a machine would gain enough knowledge to become like a human being. He would be the human being that would become the machine. The concept was glorious to him, for it even went against concrete science that had so far governed the evolution of man and machine. He was already powerful enough to change all of that. He was ready and able to cross the line that Stuart Power despised and found so perilous.

Perhaps the strongest motivating factor for the cerebral transfer was that Dread's body was failing. The biological part of him was suffering from the effects of cybernetic implants meant to keep him alive. They were a stopgap measure to sustain him. The equipment was never meant to be a permanent fixture on his body. His loyal machines had done their best to fix the damage, and they had done well. Soon, he would reward them with a new insight, with new and dynamic leadership that they would understand and embrace. The organics would see a new level of power unsurpassed in history, where machines would finally rule and perfection would reign.

Death was imminent to most, but not to Dread. He would live forever, knowing that his human form was fallible and subject to rot in the earth, but his mind would be eternal. His knowledge would only increase, and his power over the machines would be absolute. No matter Overmind's interference, Dread would assume full power, a regime of his own design. That was his destiny. Overmind would soon learn which entity held real power once the transfer was complete.

The workers continued preparations around him, doing their human best, shallow as it was, to follow all the procedures set forth by Overmind. A twinge of apprehension flitted through him. He realized that he was toying with not only immortality but also his human mortality. There was the lingering percentage of failure in the procedure that would ultimately result in his death, leaving Overmind to rule the machine world. Had Overmind done anything to increase those odds? Of that, Dread was uncertain. He had gone over the process in private, installing safeguards so that Overmind would be limited to routines to fulfill the transfer. He could not dismiss, however, the possibility that Overmind would override those protocols and sabotage the project. Dread counted this as a reality because he knew if positions were reversed, he might do the same. He smiled inwardly at the irony. It was very true – he and Overmind were one in the same.

A monitor line was installed on Dread's chestplate of electronics, relaying his biological information to Overmind. A confirmation of signal was given on the screen, a series of beeps and a repeating green spike reiterating his heartbeat and vitals. He noticed his pulse was quicker as the time approached for the procedure to begin. He ordered his body to relax, to give no semblance of nervousness that might cause the organics to doubt his destiny as their ruler, no matter how short their lives might be once he assumed his new form. As good measure, he would have the workers in the room with him eliminated. There was no room for doubt in his new government, in his new empire.

"Dread," Overmind called. "It is time for the chamber."

Dread's hands clenched, as he lay prone on the gurney. He closed his eyes, assuring himself that this was how it should be, that this was the way to immortality.

"Have the ground forces been assigned?"

"They are in place," Overmind responded. "All standards are at peak efficiency."

Dread reached up with a bare hand and touched the mangled skin of his face, feeling the chiseled surface that had long since scarred from the wounds inflicted years earlier. His hair was gone, leaving him with a pale dome of flesh that repulsed him the rare times he dared look at it. It was the one thing he shared in common with Power and his team. He was revolting to the human eye. Machine eyes did not care, thus reinforcing the fact of their efficiency. The machine mind was not sidetracked needlessly by emotion or learned prejudice. Soon, his focus would be on what mattered, and his body would no longer be a source of distraction to his goals.

"Dread," Overmind called again.

Dread's eyes closed, blocking out the yellowed lights of the anteroom. He could see the blood vessels in his eye, red jagged streaks against a dark pink through which his blood flowed. Cell to cell, surrounded by plasma, running through a network of organic capillaries, he gave the process its due credit. The machine world was more complex, but he was its designer. No one agreed on just who or what designed the human body. He was certain, though, who was responsible for the machine world and the electronic form it took.

He was God.

"Overmind, begin the transfer."


	6. Chapter 6

Jon's head felt muddied with confusion and pain as his senses slowly synchronized themselves with reality

**Chapter 6**

**Reality Strikes Back**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

Jon's head felt muddied with confusion and pain as his senses slowly synchronized themselves with reality. He was laying flat on his back, stark white lighting above him blasting his eyes. His jaw tightened, fighting the stabbing pain. He found the strength to get his forearm over his eyes, temporarily stopping the onslaught.

"You're looking as good as I feel," Hawk said from a distance.

Jon's perception of time and his surroundings caught up with him at lightning speed. He sat bolt upright in the cot. Hawk sat across the cell on another cot, his heels dug into the mattress as he leaned against the wall.

They were imprisoned. He remembered what they had witnessed when they entered the treatment area. Jon mentally smacked his forehead in frustration. How could he have been so naïve? He should have known it was a trap. Now, he had two problems. Both he and Hawk were essentially prisoners of war, and there was no telling what had happened to Jennifer.

The cell was nondescript, with white walls and white linen on the cots. A red field hummed across the doorway, locking them inside with energy neither of them dared to test with a bare hand. Jon reached to activate the badge on his chest, but his fist found only the soft cloth of his uniform shirt.

"Mine's gone, too," Hawk said glumly. "I guess the Healer isn't a fan of armor."

Jon's head was clearer. "I guess not. How long have we been out?"

Hawk shrugged. "Couple of hours, near as I can tell. I woke up with a hell of a hangover, just like you. We seemed to have had all our toys taken, including chronometers. If I had to guess, I'd say it was the wee hours of the morning."

"No visitors?"

"Just the occasional guard with a sunny disposition."

In the hallway outside the cell came the clanking sound that had sent Jon reeling in the triage area. He was on his feet immediately and at the cell entrance, followed by Hawk, careful not to make contact with the energy field. The long hall that led to the cell was dim, but he could see the dull red glow of the Healer's hardware, fused into the body of . . . a woman.

Jon's vision focused, and he saw her clearly for the first time as she walked, flanked by two human guards. She was older, limping with the weight of the mechanical leg. The servos on the limb whined quietly with each step as the knee flexed. The Healer was tall, nearly Jon's height, with short sandy hair that was beginning to age with strands of white. She wore a brown robe over her dark clothing that hung straight on her lean frame.

As she neared, he noticed she was carrying something under one arm, a bundle of dark blue cloth with the yellow imprint of circuitry. Jon's heart stumbled as his fear grew. The Healer drew closer to the doorway.

Jon looked at the bundle, his heart tripping several beats. "Jennifer . . . "

One of the guards pulled a chair from the side for the Healer to sit upon, and she accepted the offer. She looked at Jon without emotion. "Corporal Chase is alive, Captain."

He focused on the Healer's face and saw that the red glow that had taken his attention before was not an artificial eye. Rather, it was a component of an implant on the side of the Healer's head. Her eyes were sharp and serious, dark and intelligent, and completely intact.

"But the powersuit," he began.

She brought it forward to her lap. "Yes, the powersuit. It's an amazing piece of work. Unfortunately, it was interfering like hell with our A.L.S. unit when you brought her here."

"The seizures," Hawk concluded.

"Correct, Major. Apparently, the suit is finely tuned to the physiology of the wearer. Only when we had removed it completely did we manage to stabilize your pilot enough for surgery."

Jon fought to contain the questions in his head. There were so many he wanted to ask, but he knew his chance for getting answers might be limited. "She's okay, then?"

The Healer shook her head. "That's not the word I'd use at this point. She was critical when you brought her through the door. We have her on life support right now, but that's no guarantee. She had massive internal injuries."

Hawk stepped closer to the field. "Can we see her?"

The Healer straightened her mechanical leg, causing the servos to whine again as the hydraulics lubricated the metal joint. "Provided we have an understanding, yes, you can."

Hawk leaned against the frame of the cell, suspicious. "And that is?"

"This base relies on its security. It's hard enough to keep the outsiders at bay. The last thing we need are problems on the inside. I need your word that you'll control yourselves no matter what you see from this point on."

Hawk folded his arms. "You mean like the mechanical mafia you have walking the halls?"

The Healer smiled slightly at Hawk's description. "I assure you that what you see is quite benign. If you give me your word that you'll behave, I'll take you to your pilot and explain a few things on the way."

"What about our gear?" Jon asked, even more troubled that their badges had been confiscated.

"Trust is earned, Captain. Demonstrate a little control and I'll consider it." She turned to the guard on her left. "Lower the field."

The guard moved to a control panel and deactivated the field to the cell. The red shimmer disappeared, falling away into nothingness. Hawk straightened and stepped forward, taking a good look at the Healer's prosthetics. Jon sensed something pass between the two of them, a fleeting sense of recognition. Neither acknowledged the notion, if that was truly what it was.

The Healer stood and handed Pilot's suit to the guard. She turned and headed toward the exit at the far end of the hall with Jon and Hawk in tow.

"I want to introduce you gentlemen to your new shadows," the Healer said, looking back at the entourage. "Lyle and Burgess will accompany you throughout the base until we're on solid ground in the trust department. When I trust you, you'll be free to roam Sanctuary. Until then, you get a babysitter."

Jon fell in step with the Healer, who took a slow pace with the limitations of the mechanical leg. "What is this place?"

"The product of private overspending and paranoia. At the start of the Metal Wars, private investors threw money into this bunker and created the lap of luxury, intending to outlive the wretched refuse on the surface. Unfortunately, they didn't take into account the travel time needed to get here in the event of a catastrophe. They were caught on the surface and became victims of fate, just like the rest of us."

Hawk shoved his hands into empty pockets. "So, how did you become den mother down here?"

"That's a long story, Major. Suffice to say that when a Special Ops unit came across this place, fully stocked and operational, they secured it and made it a launching point for maneuvers."

"And Dread hasn't caught on yet?"

"We've had overunit probes, but we manage to mask our energy signal well enough to keep us hidden. The investors thought of everything, including stealth rigging for the generators."

Jon was intrigued by Sanctuary's history. "So, this is staffed by regular military?"

"A good number, yes. Some are survivors from the surface who proved they could be trusted. Now, Lyle and Burgess, here – they _are_ Spec Ops and have no problem killing you if the need arises," she said, paraphrasing Holcomb's warning in the elevator.

Jon glanced back at Lyle, his assigned shadow. For a brief moment, he thought he detected amusement on the man's face. The corner of Lyle's mouth turned up briefly and he gave Jon a nod as if to say the Healer was right on the money. Judging from Lyle's bulked physique, there was no doubt in Power's mind that the shadow was capable of carrying out that promise.

A beam of light in the ceiling caught the Healer's face, and Jon saw that she was older than she first appeared. Her skin was marked with tiny wrinkles that showed her age. She looked tired beyond her years, as though she had not slept in a long while.

"At this point," Jon said, "I don't think we're in a position to cause you trouble. Our concern is for Corporal Chase. We're grateful for your help. I apologize if our reaction gave you the wrong impression. We're not used to seeing biomechs that weren't shooting at us."

The Healer smiled. "I suppose it would have been more helpful had Holcomb explained what you'd see here. Even if he had, I suspect your reaction would have been the same."

"In any case," Jon continued, "I hope you don't see us as a threat. We're both fighting for the same thing."

They came to the end of the hallway. The Healer did not respond to Jon's last statement, and it unsettled him. The sense of vagueness in her purpose with Sanctuary had been there since the conversation began at the cell. He could only imagine the details of the Healer's operation and what things the Special Operations forces thought a priority.

She stopped and opened the door. Beyond it laid the triage area. Down the hall from there was a medical ward with individual rooms. Some had patients inside them, resting.

"All these rooms you see here," she explained as they walked, "were intended to be offices or suites of some sort. We had no choice but to convert it all into a medical ward to handle the casualties when the fighting got heavy."

Jon counted eight rooms all together. "What's heavy fighting to you?"

"We've had times where we're stacking six to a room. We're limited when treating mass casualties, but we're sustainable when there's less than eight. That's including limited supplies and medical personnel."

"How many on your staff?"

The Healer chuckled. "Not enough. You've met Holcomb, and you've met me. We have a staff of nurses and corpsmen, but they're trained on the fly, so to speak. They know what we've taught them, and that's it. But, I will say, they're damned good in a crisis and don't give up."

"So, Holcomb is a doctor?" Hawk asked.

"He was a general physician when we met. But, necessity brought out his skills. The more tricky jobs, like your pilot, he leaves to me."

They came to a room with its door closed at the end of the hallway. The Healer stepped in front of it, blocking their entrance. She faced them and pulled her robes closed in front of her, as if for warmth.

"Gentlemen," she said, "I want prepare you for what you'll see in here. There will be some mech technology in use with the life support systems, but I assure you it's only temporary until the corporal's body heals. The terms of your stay here are still in effect. Lyle and Burgess will give you privacy, but they'll be stationed outside the door."

Jon signaled understanding. "Okay," he said quietly.

"She needs a lot of rest to make it through this, so nothing loud or erratic. You'll only have a few minutes with her." Then the Healer paused, sympathetic. "The best thing you can do is let her know she's not alone. I can fix the wounds with surgery, but I can't fix the spirit of a patient. That will be up to her and you."

With that, she turned and opened the door. The room's overhead lights were dimmed, and a soft lamp glowed in the corner. The Healer led them in to where Holcomb sat at Jennifer's bedside, checking a bank of monitors to the left. Jon's breath caught in his throat as he saw what the Healer had warned them of in the hall. A machine was breathing for her via a tube in her mouth, and her fractured wrist was bound in a metal cast that seemed to be fused into her skin.

A white sheet covered her naked body, hiding any other devices the Healer may have employed during the surgery. Jon was not sure he could have handled more than he was already seeing. Her shoulders were plagued with bruises where debris had slammed down upon her, and a thin sheen of perspiration glittered in the diffused lighting. A new device was in place where Holcomb had first inserted the A.L.S., but it had the same black finish that conformed to the curvature of her neck.

What was most startling was the silver metal shell molded into the side of Jennifer's head near her temple, much like the casting on her wrist. A dull red light glowed on the side, just like that of the Healer's mask.

Holcomb looked up at them. He addressed the Healer. "Doctor," he said in greeting.

He stood and invited Jon to take his place at the bedside. "She's sedated, Captain, so don't expect any response," he said, nearly in a whisper.

Jon sat down, with Hawk standing next to him. His eyes were drawn to the silver plate that was outlined by bruising from the laceration underneath it.

He had difficulty finding his own voice, but when he finally did, he managed to bring forth the questions in his mind. "What is all this?" he asked in a hushed tone.

The Healer joined them at the bed. "As I said, she was very badly injured, Captain - more than your initial scans showed. Major Masterson was correct that her spleen was damaged, but we also found microlacerations on her liver and tears in the abdominal wall. Her kidneys look like they took quite a beating, too. If I had to guess, I'd say she took a direct hit from Blastarr. She lost a lot of blood, but getting her into stasis as soon as you did saved her life."

Hawk wiped at his upper lip and quietly cleared his throat. His voice sounded tight, his silvered tongue quiet and subdued. "What about her head? What is that thing?"

"It's the same technology used to heal the fracture in her wrist. It knits the tissue and bone using ultrasonic therapy. It's not the best medicine the world for cuts and breaks, but it's all we have for the time being. It'll come off in a few days."

The Healer moved to the other side of the bed and examined another bank of monitors. "The tube you see is to breathe for her. As long as she's sedated, she'll have that. Once the internal injuries heal a bit more and she can breathe on her own, that will be gone, too."

Jon stared in astonishment at the turn life had taken in only a few short hours. Before he realized, the Healer and Holcomb left the room. He and Hawk were alone with Pilot. Then Hawk moved to the other side of the room and sat on the floor, giving Jon the privacy to talk to Jennifer.

As when they were in the jumpship, he put her hand in his. It felt so small and lifeless, yet it was warm to the touch, giving him the slightest twinge of hope. He cradled it gently, afraid he might cause more damage.

"Jennifer, I'm here," he whispered. "You're not alone. Hawk and Tank and Scout – we're all here. You've made it too far to give up. We need you."

No, he corrected himself, saying, "I need you."

For some time, he watched her rhythmic breathing, thankful she was alive. His mind drifted in a chorus of memories, good ones he wished would come again. They had made the last year bearable and had sustained him. He lay his head down on the bed, holding her hand. God, he was so tired. His body ached from war and death and the fight they continued to wage against Dread.

"Some day," he told her, his eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion, "some day, this will all be over."


	7. Chapter 7

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 7**

**Turnabout Is Fair Play**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

Jon was caught in a twilight sleep, the warm period of rest when the body's defenses are down and relaxed. He felt himself bathing in it, basking in utter glory of zero gravity of the mind. He was falling, twisting and twirling in nothingness, oblivious of time and space as it existed outside his subconscious.

An external force emitted heat against his body, and it felt like an intrusion on his perfect world. Then his world shook, and it took him a moment to realize where he was and why.

The Healer's hand was on his shoulder. "Captain, it's time for Holcomb to check on her."

Jon's groggy mind swirled, trying to gain a thick grasp on reality. "What? How long have I been here?"

"Four hours. Major Masterson is waiting for you in the briefing room."

Jon looked across the room to find the space where Hawk had been sitting was abandoned. He pulled at his eyes with thumb and forefinger, rubbing away sleep. He looked at Pilot. He saw no difference, no sense of improvement since he first closed his eyes.

"How is she?"

"Still critical," the Healer answered solemnly, "but she's stable. We have things under control for the moment. If all goes well, she gets better rather quickly from this point on."

The Healer dropped two objects on to the bed next to him. It was his communicator and badge.

"Here," she said. "If you're going to be here for an extended stay, then we better start trusting one another."

He palmed the items, picking them up and looking at her. "Why the change of heart? I thought Lyle was going to be my new best friend for a while."

The Healer moved to the other side of the bed and checked the readings on the monitors. "I finally had the time to do some checking on you and your team. You do good work, and we can use your people on our side."

Jon put his badge back in place. "Your side? You sound like you've never heard of the resistance network."

"Oh, I'm aware of it, Captain. We run under different rules here, that's all. You might say we don't work and play well with others."

"So why help us if you're so independent? Why bring us into your fold?"

The Healer gave a wry smile and turned for the hallway. Jon knew she walked slowly enough that he could catch up to her. He grasped Jennifer's hand and stood. Her skin was hot on his lips as he bent and kissed her on the forehead. He was reluctant to leave her side, but she was the safe one for the moment.

He walked quickly to find the Healer, noticing the absence of Lyle in the hallway. The Healer was being true to her word. He saw her in the distance and hurried to catch up to her slow walk.

"You didn't answer the question," he said. "Why bring us into your group?"

The Healer pushed her hands into the pockets of her robe. She smiled again, an act that was becoming annoying to him. The Cheshire grin indicated a whole other story he was being fed a piece at a time.

"Let's just say that I owe a few debts, Captain."

"To whom?"

"It's a long list, one I won't bore you with right now. Perhaps one day, when all is said and done, we'll sit down over a beer and swap war stories and show each other our scars. For now, all you need to know is that you have a foothold of support here. The care your corporal is receiving won't change, regardless of your action or inaction."

"Action? Just what is it you're suggesting?"

The Healer turned down another corridor and approached a security barrier that was guarded by two sentries and a biomech. They stepped aside as she neared them, giving her plenty of room to pass. The sentries eyed Jon as he walked by, but they made no attempt to stop him from following the Healer past the checkpoint.

Jon caught up to her again. "What do you mean by 'action or inaction'?"

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "I mean that nothing is free, even in this hellhole. We scratch your back, you scratch ours."

Power could feel his ire rising, sensing that the trap Hawk feared was not in the alley but in the place where they had found refuge. He had been groggy when they first started walking. Now, he was wide-awake, his perception of his surroundings acute.

"What do you want from us?"

She reached out and opened a door near them. She strode into the room and sat down amid several men and women seated at an oval conference table. Power stood in the doorway, looking at them. Then he realized Hawk was with them, an empty chair next to the major.

The staff inside was military, dressed in casual uniforms that showed their ranks. Four men, two women and the Healer waited for Jon to come inside and sit. He did so after a moment, and the Healer motioned him to the chair next to Hawk.

Cautiously, he accepted the offer. He leaned over to Hawk. "What did I tell you about talking to strangers?" he murmured quietly.

"It's not my fault. They lured me with coffee."

Jon folded his hands on the table and looked at the Healer. "I'm not in the mood for small talk, so why don't we get to the point?"

"Very well," she conceded. "We have reason to believe Dread is embarking on a new project that could potentially turn the tide in this war if he succeeds."

Hawk slouched back in his chair. "And this is a new experience for you? You folks need to visit us in the west more often."

For the first time, the Healer looked perturbed. "We're not as sheltered as you might think, Major. We've lost enough of our own to know. The overunits spill our blood here like anywhere else, including your west."

Jon could feel the tension rising between Hawk and the Healer. Again, he felt the nagging sensation that they knew one another somehow – that there was a connection. Now was not the time to address the issue. He wanted to focus again on the reason Sanctuary needed the likes of his team.

"So, we're even in that department," Jon interceded. "Tell us about the project."

The Healer eyed Hawk, a muted loathing in her stare. She cut away to her right, nodding at an officer. "This is Lieutenant Blalock. He's our technical coordinator in charge of Intelligence Operations. Lieutenant?"

Blalock rose from his chair and approached a console. He was tall and built, carrying himself with authority. His dark skin and sharp eyes gave him a formidable look, making it seem that he would be an asset in the heat of battle.

Blalock tapped at the console, causing the viewing screen along one wall to activate. "Two weeks ago, we managed to recover a prisoner who escaped Volcania's holding cells. While he was there, he overheard plans for a transition in troop strength. Dread has recalled a significant number of troops to his base, leading us to believe that a new project is underway."

He brought up troop strength estimates on the screen. "From what we have been able to determine, nearly four thousand troops have returned to base in the last twenty-four hours. Resistance cells to the east and south confirm the movement."

The shift in troops alarmed Jon. "Why?"

"We contacted several informants to get a handle on it. This man," he said, tapping at the console again, "believes Dread is about to merge with Overmind."

The screen changed again. The image of an older man appeared, one Jon and Hawk instantly recognized.

"Cipher," Hawk said.

Blalock showed no surprise at their knowledge of the informant. "Correct. Cipher has provided inside intel on the operation to one of our informants, and the time table for its completion leaves us at a significant disadvantage."

He returned to his chair. "We know you have recently established relations with him. This is something we have been unable to do to this point."

"Cipher," the Healer said, "seems to be very discerning in his associations. Since we keep Sanctuary well under wraps, he has no reference for us. So, we can't get close enough to convince him that we could be a valuable part of the network."

Jon could envision Cipher turning away a stranger probing for information. The fact that another informant, Locke, had told Power that Cipher had been captured presented a problem.

Locke, with his wild hair and seemingly endless supply of annoying datahead jargon, had told them Cipher had been taken into custody by an overunit. Time to rescue him was slipping away quickly. Locke said that Cipher would be moved in twenty-four hours. Twelve of those had already passed, meaning the odds for a rescue were not good.

"We're not sure of Cipher's whereabouts," Jon told them. "Last we heard, Dread got a hold of him."

Blalock shook his head. "As far as we know, he hasn't been compromised. We have a shadow on him, and there's no indication Cipher's in custody."

"You may want to check again," Jon advised. "Our informant has been reliable. If Cipher's been captured, the information network will have new leaders."

"I'll check into it," Blalock promised. "In the meantime, there's that larger problem brewing with Dread."

Hawk rested his chin in his hand. "It's always something with that guy."

"Actually, Major," Blalock said, not intimidated by Hawk's sarcasm, "we think the procedure has already begun. We're behind the proverbial eight ball on this one."

Jon could not suppress the stab of shock that bolted through him. His father had spoken of Taggart's desire to bridge the gap between man and machine, but the possibility seemed far into the future, according to Stuart Gordon Power's estimates.

"Captain," Blalock said, "your father worked closely with Lyman Taggart. Is what we've been told possible?"

Power now knew it was. "Unfortunately, it is," he admitted. "Units like the biodreads were the first step in making the transition a reality."

Hawk straightened and completely focused his attention on the Healer. "But the Healer already knew that. Isn't that right – Doctor Tobias?" he accused.

The Healer seemed genuinely amused. "I was wondering when it would come to you."

Jon's mind was whirling, trying to get a handle on the strange turn between his first officer and Sanctuary's commander. "Hawk, what the hell is going on?"

Masterson stood up abruptly and walked toward the Healer. He stopped at her side and put both hands on the table, leaning down close to her. "Jon Power, meet Doctor Helene Tobias, Dread researcher and biomedical engineer wanted for crimes against humanity."

Jon scarcely breathed. He looked at her and found there was still mirth in her smile. It was unsettling and bizarre to him. "Is this true?" he asked, incredulous.

"Every word," she answered without hesitation. "Major Masterson almost had me," she said, bringing her thumb and forefinger close together. "But 'almost' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. His team tried twice to get me, but they weren't exactly dead eyes in the long shot department."

Hawk's anger surfaced, his disgust showing on his face. "You made a habit of using human beings as shields to make your get-away. Why don't you tell them about your work under Dread's command, about the countless number of experiments you performed on innocent people?"

Blalock clasped his hands behind his back. "Sanctuary is well aware of Doctor Tobias's past, Major. There's been full disclosure of her work under Dread's command."

"And you have no problem with that, Lieutenant?" Hawk said, exasperated.

"No, sir, I don't," Blalock insisted. "Since coming to Sanctuary, she has more than made up for her past actions. She's saved a lot of lives, including many of the people seated in this room," he argued, adding, "and your pilot."

The look of amusement faded from the Healer's face. She turned toward Hawk. "Major," she said in all seriousness, "when there is a lull in the action around here, I promise you'll have every opportunity to put me on trial for my past crimes. However, we have bigger problems at the moment."

Hawk gave a frustrated glance at Power.

"We need you, Major," she continued in a gesture of détente. "We need everyone on your team to put a stop to this. You're the only ones who have been able to get inside Volcania and live to tell the tale. And let's be honest – you're the ones with the suits. The rest of us would be dead taking an eighth of the hits your armor can absorb."

Jon could see the anger and fury abate in Hawk's eyes as the business side of the war was brought back to the table. The major's stiffened shoulders relaxed. He looked to Jon, eventually retreating to his chair.

"What did you have in mind?" Jon asked, feeling relieved that they were "getting down to brass tacks", as his father used to call it.

Blalock sat down again, as well. "From our best estimates, we have twenty-five to thirty hours to get something done."

"Doctor Tobias," Jon said, calling her by her real name for the first time, "how would Taggart transfer his consciousness? I'm guessing it would be more complicated than imprinting engrams into a biodread."

"You're correct," she confirmed. "In order for Overmind to complete a transfer, cerebral activity must be slowed considerably in order for all functions and memories to be captured. Taggart would have to be in a near-death state for that to happen."

Hawk shook his head, his anger seemingly gone. "Stasis wouldn't cut it," he offered.

"That's right," she agreed. "Overmind is good, but it's not good enough to handle fully active brainwaves. It needs things slowed down almost to zero." She paused, as if waiting for someone to say the punch line of the joke.

Hawk followed her train of thought and finished it. "Cryostasis," he said, the concept dawning on him.

"Cryostasis," Tobias repeated, nodding. "During the time he's on ice, Dread will be at the mercy of Overmind and the troops guarding him. He'll be virtually unaware of anything until the cerebral transfer is complete. If he reaches that stage," she said grimly, "life as we know it is over."

Jon understood the implications. They were ones his father feared so many years before Taggart took control of the world.

"He could command an entire army by thought alone," he said, still in disbelief that the fear was becoming a reality.

"Not to mention the fact that his ability to design stronger, deadlier machines would be increased exponentially. Soaron and Blastarr would look like tinker toys in a matter of weeks."

Her words hung ominously in the air. The battles they waged against the current arsenal of machines were difficult enough already. Upgrades were not a welcome thought.

"So, you see, gentlemen," Tobias said in summation, "while we did not exactly plan to contact your team for help, we're certainly inclined to accept it if you're in a giving mood."

Without a moment's uncertainty, Jon said, "You have it."

"Good," she said, rising from her chair. "If you will bring in the rest of your team, I'll arrange for maintenance on your ship and we can hammer out some of the details to this party we're about to have."

The others around the table stood as she dismissed herself from the room. Most followed in her wake, except for Blalock who lingered as he shut down the presentation console.

As Blalock neared the doorway, Hawk called out to him. "Lieutenant?" he said, stopping him by the arm.

"Yes, sir?" Blalock answered respectfully.

Hawk paused before speaking. "What is it about her that has all of you so gung ho and willing to forget the past?"

Blalock looked down at Hawk, locking his eyes to him. The tension that had dissipated before was returning in full force.

"With all due respect, Major," Blalock said in a low, tight tone as he extricated his arm from Hawk's hand, "leave her the hell alone."

With that, he strode out of the room and closed the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 8**

**Into The Light**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

Jon and Hawk exited the briefing room to find several of the staff still milling in the hall. Blalock was talking quietly with Tobias. She turned on heel at the conclusion of their conversation and walked down the corridor, away from the security checkpoint.

Blalock approached them. "We need you to bring the rest of your team in," he said. "A crew is being assembled to refuel your ship."

"Better make that a repair crew," Hawk advised. "Soaron got in a few good shots before hopping into the jumpgate."

"Can do," Blalock said. "It would help if one of you could go out with the crew. I don't need your people cutting loose on their triggers out there."

"I'll go," Hawk offered. "We need a few things from the ship, anyway, if we're going to give you guys a hand."

Jon knew it was a lie, and he appreciated Hawk's generosity. It meant the chance to stay close to Jennifer, to keep an eye on her until everything was settled.

"Make sure the cargo is secure," Jon said, "and have Scout get cloaking online. That should give us some cover from the patrols."

"Right."

Blalock called for one of the men in the hall to escort Hawk to the repair team.

"Lieutenant," Jon said, when Hawk had gone, "I need to speak with Doctor Tobias in private."

Blalock paused. "What time is it?"

Jon looked down at his chronometer. "Nearly noon."

The lieutenant hesitated but soon relented. "She's on the roof. Goes up there about this time every day. Take the elevator straight up to the fourteenth floor, hang a right. There's an access hatch."

"Thank you."

Now it was Blalock's turn to stop Power. "You obviously didn't hear me in the briefing room, Captain. Hurt her and I'll make you wish you'd never come here."

Blalock's words were not those of a junior officer to a senior officer. They were from one man to another.

"Point taken, Lieutenant," he said, looking the man in the eyes. He had no intention of backing down in the midst of a threat. "Which way to the elevator?"

Blalock pointed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the direction Jon saw Tobias walk just a few minutes beforehand.

The elevator doors were open, and the cab creaked as Jon stepped inside it. He tapped the control panel for the fourteenth floor and moved back as the doors slid closed. Gravity buckled his knees slightly as the car rose up through the building toward the roof. As Blalock had said, there was a hatch to the roof off to the right of the elevators. He climbed through it and found himself atop the roof, high above Robertsontown.

The streets rumbled with activity, with traders hawking wares and the food vendors beginning their services for the day. Jon had not seen such freedom for human beings in any town in the west. Robertsontown, it seemed, was not as hard hit by Dread's forces. Perhaps, he considered, Tobias's crew really had not spilled as much blood. He did not doubt that Dread forces controlled the area, but the level of prosperity in the town was staggering when compared to those who lived in places like the Passages. It made him wonder if Sanctuary's people were sleeping with the enemy.

He leaned his elbows on the railing, surveying the scene. The wind was blowing gently, and the sun, though a dusky rose in the fallout of war, shone warm upon his face. He closed his eyes, bathing in the radiance.

"Nothing like the great outdoors to refresh the soul, eh, Captain?" Tobias said from the shadows.

He whipped around, caught off guard. He waited for a moment until his vision recovered from the brightness of the sun. When it was normal again, he saw her seated in a lounge chair, her feet up and her robes pulled tightly about her.

She lay back against the chair and looked out through the railing. "So many lives down there," she said with a weariness that contrasted sharply with her appearance of command in the briefing room. "He'll take them soon enough."

"He hasn't won yet," Jon offered.

"Those people are sheep, Captain. They're too afraid or too complacent to stand up and fight for their freedom. They're content to bribe and steal their existence."

"Then why do you help them? Why not move on to where you can help people who are willing to fight Dread?"

"Because bunkers don't fit into suitcases. We're too integrated now to give up this place. Besides," she said, "it's a hell of a view to the west."

He looked left and saw a vast plain of grain and grass. It was a sharp contrast to the desert sand he was used to seeing. The ecology of the planet had been changed during the Metal Wars. Dirt and debris had been kicked up in to the atmosphere, causing extreme shifts in the temperate zones. What was once tundra became hot and arid. Cool places became frozen wastelands. Very few areas remained moderate and capable of sustaining farming of any type. Robertsontown had made the short list of locations.

He turned toward her again. "I wanted to thank you for what you did. You and Holcomb saved Jennifer's life."

"To be honest, Captain," she said, pulling her robe even tighter, "we had an ulterior motive."

"So, you would have let her die if you hadn't needed us?"

"Of course not. I'm saying we wouldn't have brought you into Sanctuary so willingly. We would have been a hell of a lot more discerning in our actions."

He studied her as she sat huddled in the shadows of the alcove. Her eyes looked tired but alert. He could not help but be intrigued by her sense of calm. Even when Hawk had accused her of atrocities, she did not react except to keep the subject focused.

"It's a lot warmer in the sun," he remarked.

Tobias laughed. "And a great way to reflect my hardware. There are some real longshots down there who could ruin a cyborg's day with a little luck."

"You consider yourself a cybernetic organism?"

"A biomech, if it makes you feel any better. I fit the scientific bill, believe me. I helped define the term."

He stepped into alcove. "You're a little more advanced than a biomech. Speaking of those . . . "

"Their names are Mason and Dixon," she answered, anticipating his question. "They've been reprogrammed to do routine work around here. I removed their trackers."

"Just like that?" Power asked, surprised.

"Just like that," she said in kind. "Not everything has a complicated history, Captain. Sometimes, things are exactly as they appear."

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms against the chill. "You can't blame us for having questions."

"And I don't, but I'm also not going to waste your time and mine rehashing the past. As I said before, some day they'll make good bar stories. Right now, they're only memories and nightmares best forgotten."

"You're saying you deserve the way you are?"

The wry grin appeared again. "I reaped what I sowed. There's not much more to it than that."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Making excuses only complicates a matter. Breaking something down to its most basic truth not only helps the conscience but also cuts out a hell of a lot of red tape. It leaves one free to stay the course."

"And what course is that?"

She paused, considering her answer. Then she said, "Atonement, Captain. In its most basic form, I must apologize and gain the forgiveness of humanity by my actions."

"Lieutenant Blalock seems to think you've been through enough."

She smiled fondly. "He's young and idealistic. He sees shades of grey when everything is really black and white. It's good versus evil, a yin and a yang."

"And that's how you always see it?"

"That's how I have to see it. That's the way it is, whether we like it or not."

Power shook his head. "I'm not so sure I could see everything that way."

"That's because you've always had the luxury of give and take. You can live with compromise. I can't. "

Jon laid his head against the wall, unsure of what Tobias meant. War required compromise, for not all battles could be won. Sometimes, it was a matter of living to fight another day. Give and take was essential to gaining ground. He did not like informants such as Locke because they were conniving and dishonest. However, they did supply valuable information, albeit for a price. Tobias's words that nothing was for free echoed in his mind.

"And the implants – are those a compromise or part of a nightmare?" he challenged.

"Oh, a little of both, I suppose," she sighed. "We all have times in our lives best forgotten."

"That's not good enough for me."

"You're in no position to demand anything. You're here on Holcomb's better judgment. The fact that the timing of Dread's project coincides with your arrival is interesting but hardly an ace up your sleeve. At any point, I can send all of you on your merry way and not have to explain my reasons to anyone."

"I don't believe you'd ever do that. You, yourself, said that you owe humanity your service."

She laughed again, this time more heartily. "Oh, Captain, my captain! You obviously have no clue. God bless your ignorance!"

Jon rubbed at his eyes again, frustrated. "Look, I don't know what it is in your past that makes you such a monster. At this point, I'm not sure I even care."

"Of course you care," she countered, containing her laughter, "or you wouldn't be probing for information. Human nature has to be the most consistent yet most dynamic, unpredictable element in this world. We're creatures of habits that have been handed down through thousands of years of intellectual evolution."

"Sounds more complicated when you say it that way. I was thinking more along the lines that Blalock all but threatened to kill me if I hurt your feelings."

The fondness returned to her eyes at the mention of the lieutenant's name. "Well, that's Mick for you. He has a good heart, but that doesn't mean much when he's mad."

"It seems we have that in common with our First Officers."

"Major Masterson is bitter, and rightfully so. He's a lousy shot under pressure. I do find the irony of what he'll tolerate amusing, though," she said.

"How's that?" Jon asked, feeling an insult of his crew forming in Tobias.

"He seems to have no problem embracing a young woman who sent thousands to their deaths and now feels sorry for what she's done. The old woman, on the other hand, gets no mercy, no reprieve for what she's done, no matter how hard she tries. His ability to pass judgment is truly awesome."

"He's wrong for doing that, but he's seen a lot in this war. I think it can cloud his senses sometimes, " Jon argued.

"No, he's not wrong. At least someone is willing to say it. As I said, your corporal sent thousands to their deaths. I sent millions. But to be honest, it all becomes a blur after the first hundred or so. After that, it's all strictly a matter of statistics," she said with a dismissive air. "And statistically speaking, I'm much farther in the hole than she is in the penance department."

Her words of confession left him with no response. Tobias was a war criminal pleading guilty to all charges. She had passed sentence on herself, acknowledging her culpability in spreading Dread's empire.

Still, he refused to look at her as the criminal she professed she was. True criminals, those deserving eternal punishment, seldom placed the blame on themselves and seldom expressed remorse for their actions. Not only was Tobias expressing guilt, she was adamant in taking full responsibility for the past. It was a burden that could weigh more than the soul was designed to bear.

Tobias's communicator chirped suddenly, startling them both.

"Holcomb to Tobias."

She pulled up her sleeve and activated the link. "Tobias, go."

"Our patient just woke up."

A glad look spread on her face. "Very good. We're on our way. Tobias out."

She looked up at Power. "I've enjoyed our little chat, Captain. So, let's go see how your corporal is doing."

She began to get off the lounge chair. Jon instinctively held out a hand to assist her. She accepted the offer with a chuckle.

"Such manners from a great warrior. Who'd have thought?"

He followed her to the hatch and watched in amazement as she slipped through the port and slid down the side railings of the ladder. The mechanical leg did not appear to hinder her at all when climbing, although the servos in the joints sounded louder when stressed at odd angles.

They stepped into the elevator and began the descent down into the bunker once more. Tobias was quiet, and Jon was thankful for that. He felt uncomfortable delving into her past, in total disregard of Blalock's warning.

The nurse Jon had seen the night before in the triage area met them at the elevator. She began apprising Tobias of Pilot's condition as they walked toward the medical ward. He picked up on several points that sounded encouraging, but the best information of all was that Jennifer was awake and alert, struggling to communicate with Holcomb.

They neared the room in the medical ward, but Tobias did not enter.

"It's probably best if you go in first," she said. "She's disoriented and afraid right now. She needs a familiar face. Keep her as calm as you can."

He looked at her for a moment, studying the whirlwind of bottled emotions and untold stories in an aging woman's body. Her kindness and compassion clashed violently with the self-proclaimed monster inside her.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and he meant it this time. Her only response was a minute dip of her head and an invitation to go into the room.

He opened the door and saw Holcomb at Jennifer's side, talking in hushed tones to her. He acknowledged Jon with a nod.

"Looks like you have a visitor," Holcomb said to her with a gentle smile. The doctor relinquished his chair to Jon, giving them their space but remaining in the room.

Jon took her hand in his, and she grasped it firmly. He heard her struggle against the machines that prevented her from speaking but that pushed life-giving air into her lungs. Her hand was clenched around his, a grip of fear and shock.

"It's okay," he soothed, "I'm right here. You're going to be fine. Try to relax."

Her startling blue eyes were wide with confusion and fear. She focused on him, and her fight diminished until it seemed that her alarm was easing. Her grip remained tight, but not the vise that it was.

"We're in a place called Sanctuary," he told her. "Lydia sent us here to get you some help." Jon looked back toward the door. "That's Holcomb. He's one of the doctors who's taking care of you."

She looked at Holcomb, but Jon could see her attention called to something else, something that raised her alarm again. It was not fear that gripped but what he was sure was shock. She blinked several times, as if to clear her vision. The thump of Tobias's mechanical leg reverberated through the tiled floor as she neared the bed.

Tobias looked down at her patient with a gentle smile. "Hello, Jennifer. I'm glad you're back with us. You had us worried there for a while."

Chase struggled against the respirator, but this time, it was in an effort to speak. The fear was gone, replaced by something Jon could only surmise was agitation at Pilot's inability to talk against the tubes of the ventilator. Her eyes welled and finally spilled over in tiny silent streams. Tobias put a hand on Pilot's shoulder.

"Don't try to talk," the doctor said. Jon heard tightness in her voice that he did not expect. "We'll get that tube out of you in a couple of hours, and then we can get the questions out of the way."

Tobias put a hand on Jennifer's head in a gentle caress. "I want you to rest now," she said in a voice that was unexpectedly mild and comforting. "I'm going to have Holcomb give you something to relax you. It'll keep the edge off the pain until the regenerators finish their work."

Pilot's grip loosened in his hand. Her anxiety was not so acute, but she was clearly distracted at the presence of Tobias. She did as Tobias asked, but her eyes were still bright with tears. Holcomb stepped in then and administered the ordered sedative.

Jon was taken aback by the exchange. The two clearly knew one another, but how? More importantly, when? Instead of feeling relief that Tobias was a comfort to Pilot, he felt angry that yet another important detail had been withheld.

Tobias and Holcomb left the room. He listened until he could no longer hear the metal clanking in the hall. Jon watched Jennifer as her eyes became heavy and she drifted off into a steady sleep. He debated finding Tobias and demanding answers, except he was fast learning that tactic was useless with a woman like her. Instead, he took what little time he had before the planning stages for the raid on Volcania to stay with Pilot, watching her as she slept.

Time, he knew, was something that was fleeting. Or so it seemed.


	9. Chapter 9

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 9**

**Plan of Action**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

There was a quiet knock at the door before it opened. Hawk's head appeared. "Jon?"

Power looked back and motioned for him to come into the room. Matt closed the door quietly behind him, careful not to wake Pilot.

"How is she?" he asked.

Jon gave a cautious smile. "She's better. She woke up a while ago, but Tobias says it'll still be a few hours before everything is back on track."

Hawk rubbed a hand through his hair and blew out long breath. "I don't want to take your time with her away, but we need you. We can't activate Mentor without two senior authorizations. And without Mentor, Scout can't get a handle on what to do about the jumpgate situation."

Jon did not mind. "She'll be out of it for a while. We need to get that system secure before Dread decides to go global on us."

He followed Hawk out into the hall and into a new section of Sanctuary where they found Scout in a computer lab. Banks of computers that looked like relics from another century lined the horseshoe console. Like many of the rooms in Sanctuary, the lights were at a minimum, which Jon assumed was an effort to conserve as much as possible from the generators.

A tall, dark-haired woman sat next to Scout. Jon recognized her as one of those who had attended the meeting in the briefing room. Scout rotated his chair as he heard them enter.

"Good to see you again, Captain," the sergeant said in greeting.

Jon signaled a greeting. "You too, Scout. What's going on?"

"First, let me introduce you to Master Sergeant Meredith Kasich. She's Sanctuary's datahead in charge of their computer core."

"Sergeant," Jon said in her direction.

She gave an acknowledgement of his greeting. "Sir."

Jon's attention was drawn to a terminal, where Mentor's image – that of Stuart Power – filled the screen. Mentor was silent, as if awaiting instructions.

"What's the problem with Mentor?" Jon asked.

Scout swiveled back to the console. "Security lockouts. Mentor's bolted all the doors until you and Hawk give authorizations. Hawk's already entered his, but Mentor is insisting on yours. Could be that the interface with Sanctuary's core is a little shaky. Mentor is expecting to be reactivated on more familiar turf."

Sergeant Kasich pointed to an adjacent terminal and screen. "Sanctuary's systems will support Mentor, but they're put together piecemeal. They're nowhere near as sophisticated as your former core."

Jon felt frustration at the obstacles that were rising in front of them, though he chastised himself for not remembering that some of those difficulties had been intentionally put in place. They needed Mentor if they wanted a shot at getting inside Volcania and completing the mission. Mentor did, indeed, need his voice pattern and authorization code to be reactivated. Stuart Power had installed the failsafe, and Jon now knew why.

"Are we ready to try?" he asked the sergeants.

Scout pushed away from the console to allow Jon room. "All yours, Captain."

He stepped closer to where he could see Mentor's face on the screen more clearly. "Mentor, reinitiate program, authorization Power, Jon, Alpha-five-Beta-one-four. Execute."

Immediately, Mentor gave a bow of his head in welcome. "Greetings, Captain. Major Masterson, Sergeant Baker," it acknowledged.

Scout returned to his operating position. "Mentor, we need a systems check to make sure you're okay."

"All systems are nominal," Mentor reported, "although this environment is not yet familiar."

"Welcome to Sanctuary," Kasich said with heavy sarcasm, in irony of the Sanctuary's patchwork of equipment.

Mentor accessed a personnel file. "Master Sergeant Meredith Kasich, Sanctuary systems engineer."

"Hello, Mentor," she greeted carefully, a slight smile of what Jon thought was wonderment forming on her lips. "You've been granted full access to our core, what there is of it. Unfortunately, you'll be limited to access from terminals instead of a main holotank."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Mentor replied politely. "I am able to make adjustments in my programming to allow that."

Jon took comfort that the backup Pilot had made of the system seemed to be intact. "Mentor, we need all the data you have on Volcania's layout after the Icarus impact. We'll also need the new data Pilot brought to you."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Mentor said, "but the data disc Corporal Chase had analyzed contained no information."

Hawk glanced at Jon, his face betraying the cold shock they both felt at the possibility they had lost everything for nothing.

The major immediately voiced the question on their minds. "What do you mean it contained no data?"

"The disc was blank."

Hawk's fingers curled into a fist. "That son of a bitch," he growled quietly.

They had been double-crossed by Locke, their informant. Suddenly, the details of betrayal began to take form. They had been set up for the ambushes, but it remained unclear how Dread had known. On the other hand, Jon reasoned, Locke was the kind of person who would sell parts of his anatomy if he thought it would make a profit.

Jon's feelings of guilt over having sent Pilot alone in the first place welled up again. His common sense screamed that he could not have known what would happen, that risks were a part of war, as Hawk had reminded him on the jumpship. Despite Hawk's wisdom, he could not get the image of Jennifer, injured and dying for their cause, out of his mind.

He brought his attention back into focus, knowing he had to command, not be sidetracked by emotion. There would be time to grieve, time to be angry later. The future always had a placeholder for that. Some day, he would sit down at the table and take it up on its offerings.

"Scout, analyze the files on Volcania and see what the possible access points are. Take into account outside patrols and double security inside. We need to make it quiet."

"I'll give you a status report in about an hour," Scout assured.

"Good." Jon looked at Hawk, muttering quietly to him, "We need to talk."

The captain turned on heel toward the hall, well aware that his movements were tense and not lost on his second-in-command. An adjacent room was empty. He led Hawk inside and closed the door.

"From the look on your face, I'd say there's something on your mind," Hawk began.

Jon crossed his arms, not caring that it conveyed his annoyance. "You got that right."

"Let's have it."

"It seems that everyone has some sort of history with Tobias but me. I would like to be let in on the details."

Hawk sat down at the table and leaned back in his chair. "My unit was tapped to take her out of commission during the early days of Dread's play for power. The Joint Chiefs knew then how dangerous she was and decided that taking Tobias out of the game would give us a fighting chance against Dread. Tobias was developing weapons for him faster than we could combat them. We were ordered to assassinate her at the earliest opportunity."

"She says you missed."

"I did," Hawk said with disdain. "I had the shot, took it, but it was off. Barely missed her. By then, the Dread Youth closed in around her. We were told we couldn't inflict collateral damage. So, off she went down some tunnel."

"How did she know it was you who took the shot? She knew who you were right away when we got here."

Hawk shrugged. "I had the rest my unit hang back in support. A patrol was on my location before I could get out of there. They were taking me in when the unit bailed me out." He turned somber. "The no-collateral rule meant we couldn't shoot the kids in the patrol. We stunned them, just to get away. They must have made it back to Tobias and let her know who the gunner was."

Jon's weariness returned, but his anger was offsetting it, making him feel wired. He sat down at the table and studied Hawk's game face. There was no emotion for the tale told, no defense of the acts. Jon was not as controlled. He could feel the heat rising in his face, but he maintained his composure. He was in command of the unit. As commanding officer, he had a right to all operational knowledge of everyone in it. Hawk, of all the members, was the one who should have been most mindful of this fact. For that reason, Jon resented being kept in the dark.

"When were you going to tell me this?"

"In case you haven't noticed, you and I haven't exactly had the opportunity to talk one-on-one lately."

"You knew who she was when we were locked up. You should have said something then."

"I wasn't sure it was her at first."

"How could you miss the leg and the head?"

"She didn't have it when I was assigned," Hawk explained. "Whatever gave her all that happened after the mission."

Jon fingered the wood grain in the table. He could feel his agitation punching at him, adding to the stress he felt.

"I have to be able to trust you, Hawk," he said quietly. "I can't waste time wondering if you're holding out on me. We're too strung out to not be able to trust one another."

"Even if I had told you, how much difference would it have really made? If anything, it might have complicated it. Imagine what would have happened had I been wrong."

Jon rolled his eyes in raw frustration. "And the three-act play in the briefing was any better? Matt, we're trying to form alliances, not put the past on trial."

"Have you ever seen the evidence of what she did?" Hawk asked bluntly.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does!" Matt shot back hotly. "She butchered them. And she wasn't discerning, either. Men, women, children, young, old – she used them like lab rats. You have no idea of the things she did to them. Her work made the Metal War casualties look pleasant. She's a monster, Jon, and that's the way I'll look at her every time I see her."

Jon was quiet, trying to let Hawk's anger pass. In truth, Power had never seen the evidence of Tobias's war crimes and had no idea what she could have done that was so terrible. That was not to say Matt was wrong, but it was difficult to apply the same sense of revulsion to the woman as Hawk could.

"Even if she is," Jon said, "we need these people. Right now, we need everything they can give us to stop Dread's transfer."

"Working with Tobias is like making a pact with the devil, Jon," Hawk contended. "This will come back to haunt us. Trust me on that."

"I'm not saying you're wrong, and it's best to keep an eye on everyone at this point. But we have to start trusting them if only for the moment. Look," he said, trying to reinforce his point, "if they were going to doublecross us, they'd have done it by now."

Jon's effort to calm his second-in-command with reason did not work. Hawk's ire and contempt were still there.

"And what if they haven't gotten what they're after yet? What if it's Mentor or the ship?"

Jon accepted the possibility that what concerned Hawk could very well be true, but their options were so limited with Pilot still in danger. The only course of action was the one they had been taking thus far.

"We can only go by what we know, " Jon told him. "If you find something that changes the situation, then we'll act on it. With Pilot's condition, we have no options. She can't be moved, and we're not leaving her here."

Jon saw Hawk restraining his frustration at the command decision given him. He knew that a compromise would at least satisfy his first officer for the moment.

"I'll check with Mentor about Tobias and see what's there," Jon said in conciliation. "If there's something to be found, Mentor will see it."

Hawk considered the offer. "Fair enough, because I'm sure Mentor has the files," he said, "but you're not going to like what you see."

"Maybe not, but knowing the truth is better than living lies. Right now, I need you to work with Scout and see where we stand on getting into Volcania."

For the first time in a long while, there was a palpable tension between them, a disagreement between a commanding officer and a subordinate, a friend and a friend.

Hawk stood and headed for the door. He stopped just before leaving the room and turned one final time toward Jon.

"Do us all a favor, Captain," he said, "watch where you place your trust. We got burned by Locke, and that nearly got one of us killed. Don't let the same happen with Tobias."

Then Jon was alone, listening as Hawk rejoined the others in the core lab. He wanted to go to the lab and privately confer with Mentor over Tobias's record, but the presence of Kasich and even his own team would have made that difficult. He recalled Kasich's mention that Mentor was now available on multiple terminals, but he needed to be alone, free of prying eyes. More than that, he needed to know all he could find about Tobias and those on her team. For his own team's sake, he needed every advantage he could find.

The medical ward was capable of providing that kind of privacy. There was a terminal in there. He remembered seeing it. He was confident he would be left alone under the guise of visiting his wounded corporal.

He found himself navigating the halls of Sanctuary with freedom. No one stopped him, and no shadows lurked in his periphery as he walked toward the medical ward.

He was admitted to the room without question by the staff on duty. He closed the door behind him and stopped as he caught sight of Jennifer in the bed. She was unconscious and assisted by the ventilator. Her color seemed better, though, a stark contrast to the pallor of her skin the first time he saw her. He neared her and adjusted the blanket around her.

To the left was the terminal. He sat down in front of it, aware that he was about to do something he might regret. Hawk's admonition about Tobias's past was salient, though, and it was important that Jon knew what all the facts were if Mentor could provide the details.

"Mentor," he called quietly.

Almost immediately, Mentor's face appeared on the screen.

"Captain," Mentor greeted. "How may I help you?"

"Is anyone aware that you're being accessed on multiple terminals?"

"Negative. I have secured all authorized transmissions."

Jon felt a brief sense of relief. "Good."

Jennifer stirred, drawing Jon's attention to her.

"Jennifer Chase's condition is improving at a steady rate," Mentor informed.

"So I've been told," Jon said, watching as she settled back into a deep sleep. Once she was quiet, he said, "I need all the information you have on Helene Tobias."

Mentor paused, as was its custom when searching the database.

"Doctor Helene Tobias, born zero-eight, mark seven, 2095. Died, zero seven, mark nine, 2145."

"That's what you think," Jon muttered.

"Are my files inaccurate, Captain? Should I prepare to update them?"

"Later. Continue."

Mentor returned to its report. "Doctorate in biomechanical engineering from the Global Technology Institute. Doctorate in medical sciences, Harvard University."

The profile was impressive. It explained how Tobias could be so versatile within Sanctuary's domain.

"What's her connection to Dread?"

"Upon receiving her doctorates, Doctor Tobias applied to and was accepted by the United World Coalition Research Facility as a research fellow. She was assigned as an associate to Lyman Taggart."

"That means my father knew her."

"He knew of her, but it is unlikely they ever met. Doctor Tobias was assigned to a secure auxiliary research facility."

"What did she do there?"

"According to prosecution records, she was accused of conducting unauthorized research under Lyman Taggart's supervision. It was thought she was she was instrumental in Overmind's completion."

"She helped Taggart bring Overmind across the line of sentience?"

"There was dissention among the Joint Chiefs as to her level of participation. Some members cited her benevolent medical research as a defense. However, at the conclusion of the Metal Wars, before Taggart assumed power, it was proven that Doctor Tobias's research was bringing about changes in Taggart's attempts at world domination."

"And Hawk's unit got assigned to take her out," Jon added.

"Correct, Captain. Before her location could be ascertained, Dread's forces had gained significant advances against human forces. Much of the military organization that had convicted her of the charges had been destroyed. Major Masterson's mission was one of the final efforts to gain a foothold against Dread's advancing fronts."

Jon could easily follow the train of events. Dread's rise to power had been swift, annihilating most human armies quickly and decisively as the machines rolled over most of the planet. That did not explain one very pressing matter.

"You list a date of death. If Hawk says he missed, how did she die?"

"According to intelligence records, there was an internal conflict between Lyman Taggart and Helene Tobias."

"What was the problem?"

"Unknown. However, it was severe enough for her to be executed by Taggart's own hand."

The words shocked Jon. Tobias was not in their midst by the graces of luck. Taggart was notorious for being thorough in such matters.

He had promised Hawk he would view the evidence of Tobias's crimes. He requested Mentor's available files. Images began cycling on the screen. Occasionally, Mentor added an explanation to enhance the presentation. There were mutilated bodies, one after another. Mechanical parts were embedded in human skin in an attempt to mate man and machine. With each passing moment, he understood why Hawk had been assigned to assassinate Tobias. The pictures sickened him to the point that he had to look away.

"That's enough," he said quietly.

The images disappeared, and Mentor was once again in full view.

He watched Pilot again, thinking of her own involvement with the machine regime. He was unable to fathom how she could have been two very different people in her short lifetime, how she could have been witness to the torture and murder of so many. By her own admission, she had been an integral part of Dread's organization. If she had not found her way out of there, there was no telling how far she would have advanced in the echelon of Dread's empire. Somehow, some way, she had seen the truth, seen the light that led her away from hell and into salvation.

It was all madness, and he felt overwhelmed by the confusion of all the players in the game. Moreover, he felt duped – an unwitting participant in a sideshow of dramatic eloquence on the part of Tobias. She had a gift for words that somehow managed to lessen how dire a situation really was, and she used that same gift to exert her authority. Maybe she really was a monster, as she had told him. If that were true, then it meant there was more to learn about her and what it was she really wanted or needed.

The images of Tobias's "patients" played through his mind at a rampant pace as he sat there. As a commanding officer of a team, he had no idea how to begin to sort them, how to order them into something that he could use in order to save lives. That, after all, was his responsibility. His father, who knew the dangers that lay coiled in the dark recesses of scientific research, had handed it to him. Jon's role, though, dealt with the aftermath of science gone awry. He found the dead and buried them. He saw those who were still alive who prayed for a quick demise from their own personal hell of hunger and thirst.

Jon could only conclude that Tobias was a monster in her past. Her present and future, however, were the real mysteries. He could not say what she had become. He dared not make any assumptions lest it cloud his instincts. He had to be prepared for betrayal with Sanctuary's crew, as he should have been with the likes of Locke and his people. He longed for the trust he felt with his team to be shared with just one outside contact. As it stood, they were always vulnerable, always in danger of being compromised.

Jennifer stirred once more, and he smoothed the hair on her head to calm her. She was beautiful to him and always had been, even if he had only recently come to realize it. He had put her in that bed by his command decision. Nothing Hawk or Tobias could say would change that feeling. Some day, perhaps, he would be able to reconcile his guilt. Until then, he would carry it in his heart, welcoming the brandishing pain it caused.

Tobias had been seeking atonement. He realized he would have to do the same when all was said and done.


	10. Chapter 10

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 10**

Objects In Motion

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

They all gathered in the briefing room when Scout and Kasich announced they had completed their analysis of Mentor's files. Jon was pleased to see his team together again, knowing Pilot was close by and being cared for by Sanctuary's medical staff. They were intact, having dodged a close call.

By now, Hawk seemed more at ease among Sanctuary's people, although he remained at a distance from Tobias. He expected nothing less from his second-in-command. He had come to know Hawk would act accordingly, even with those he did not exactly trust.

Scout looked completely comfortable with Kasich, as it was clear the two had formed a bond through technology and the passion for it they both shared. Even in the darkest moments of war, there was the element of camaraderie that superceded even the most horrible events. For this, Jon was glad. He pondered for a moment the idea that he and Tobias shared a connection. They were both commanders of units, tasked with making their teams work under extraordinary circumstances to overcome impossible odds.

He could not figure out Tobias with all their interactions. She was an enigma of contradiction. The evidence Mentor had displayed was startling and sickening. Tobias had made no defense against what he was sure she knew he would find. She had to know Power had the ability to look into the past and see what she had done. Perhaps she had invited it, making him a participant in her atonement process. It was as though she was begging all to look at what she had done and pass judgment. Her dark side slipped into the open at will, where she paraded her guilt but without fanfare. It was matter-of-fact, a display of truth, no matter how ugly.

Jon found himself looking at her, studying her. She caught him and returned the look. Tobias looked down at her lap. He was positive she knew he had found the evidence files. He did not know how she could have been aware that Mentor had shown them, but her demeanor spoke volumes.

Finally, there was Tank, who chose to stand to the side for the briefing. Jon had seen the man when he was angry, but this time he saw something different in the lieutenant's eyes. It was a smoldering ember of anger that was being held from conflagration solely by Tank's will and discipline as a soldier. Tank had sworn revenge, and Jon did not blame him for wanting such exact justice. The discipline would keep Ellis on the straight and narrow when the time for action came, when he would follow the orders given to him. There was no guarantee, however, what Tank would do given the opportunity of close quarter combat with Dread's finest.

Tobias brought the room to order. "Ladies and gentlemen, the analysis of available intel on Volcania has been completed. Sergeants Kasich and Baker are ready to show us the options. Before they proceed, I'd like you all to meet Mentor, Captain Power's computer core. Mentor has been linked to Sanctuary's systems to better serve the mission."

At her words, Mentor's face appeared on the large presentation screen.

"Greetings, Doctor Tobias," it said.

Scout stood and walked near the presentation screen. "Mentor, play final Icarus impact analysis," he commanded.

Volcania's damaged hull was centered on the screen. Mentor began the monologue of results.

"The Icarus device caused considerable damage to Volcania's external structures. The object was slowed on reentry by Soaron's defensive maneuvers. However, the attempt did not deflect the satellite enough to spare Volcania from significant impairment."

A wrap-around view of Volcania began moving on the screen, showing the entire facility and the damaged areas caused by Icarus.

"Because of the damage, new construction was necessary to close large holes in the hull. A complete analysis of data concludes that all previously known points of entry into Volcania have been altered, heavily secured or are no longer in existence."

A look of sheer frustration and disappointment washed over Tobias's face. There was even a sense of weariness in her at the setback. Jon shared her feelings, identified with what it meant. If the teams could not get into Volcania, they could not stop Dread's transfer and endgame would be near.

Blalock took a sip from the mug in front of him. "What about heavy bombardment, an aerial attack? Captain Power has a ship."

Mentor's image returned to the screen. "The area most likely to house the instruments needed for the transfer is too deep to be penetrated by conventional weapons. Even Icarus did not damage the area. In order to effectively disable Overmind's process, full infiltration and destruction of the transfer core processing unit is necessary."

A quiet murmur went around the room as the obstacles became clear to the teams.

"Mentor," Tobias called over the voices, quieting them, "scan section one-zero-four of the schematic. Tell me what you find there."

Mentor complied with a wireframe layout of Volcania as it analyzed the request. The model whirled in a circular motion as section one-zero-four was located and a detailed zoom was applied. One-zero-four came into focus. Located at the foundation of Volcania, it sat on the side opposite the major entrances. A small rectangular area in the middle of the section lit up and blinked white against the black background.

"Section one-zero-four appears to be a pressure door, Doctor Tobias. It is reinforced and cannot be opened by available weapons," Mentor answered.

Tobias rubbed at her upper lip in contemplation. Then she said, "What are the odds that the door's security is controlled by the central core?"

Jon saw Blalock freeze, the mug in mid-motion.

"Intelligence reports have not indicated any activity in that area for a number of months," Mentor replied. "Therefore, it is likely that the security measures have been transferred to secondary systems."

Tobias nodded and continued with her line of questioning, ignoring Blalock's alarm. "What about beyond that door, down the rest of the corridor?"

"Early intelligence indicated the presence of additional pressure doors leading to sub-level four. However, no security checkpoints were present."

Blalock's silence ended. "That's not an option, Doc. It's out of the question," he said strongly.

Jon saw anxiety in Blalock's eyes, though he did not understand the reason for the lieutenant's adamant rejection of whatever Tobias was suggesting.

"What's not an option?" Jon asked, seeing the lieutenant's anxiety.

Tobias and Blalock trained their sights on one another until Tobias finally gave him a gentle, sad smile and concentrated on Jon once more.

"Overmind has a weakness, and that is arrogance," she said. "It likes the glorious jobs, ones that deal with battle and carnage. The tasks it considers beneath its abilities get assigned to a secondary autonomic system. I'm willing to bet that pressure door at section one-zero-four is on that system. Overmind will need all available resources to kick Dread into the next plane of existence."

Tobias seemed to have a firm grasp of the plan, but Jon was still confused. "I'm still not following," he admitted.

She reached up to the side of her head to where the silver plate covered her temple. He heard the quiet click of the latch as she opened the tiny hatch. The red light extinguished on the plate as she casually tossed it onto the table. It spun around several times on its convex side before coming to a stop.

Tobias pushed away her hair and turned her head slightly to show Power and his team a small metal hole embedded in a metal plate. She pushed her index finger into it for emphasis.

Scout gave a low whistle. "A cerebral port," he said, astonished.

"Very good, Sergeant," Tobias complimented. "It's a Model 1A-400, one of the first of its kind. It's capable of interfacing quite well with Volcania's systems. The problem to this point has been the fact that our core isn't able to handle the complexity of the connection."

Hawk scoffed. "If you think you're using Mentor, forget it."

"If we don't use Mentor," Tobias countered sharply, "there won't be any of us left to care." She focused on Jon. "Captain, Mentor would only be used as a pass-through, just enough to negotiate the connection. Overmind wouldn't even know Mentor was in the neighborhood, and the autonomic systems would be none the wiser once I disable the trace protocols."

Power was not willing to take only Tobias's word on the matter.

"Scout," he said, "is this possible?"

Baker pondered the possibilities. "Yes, sir, it is. Mentor's able to do it now that it has a core to house the software."

Hawk was upset, vehemently objecting. "Jon, you can't be seriously considering this!"

Jon admitted that he actually was entertaining the notion, and seriously at that. He looked carefully into Tobias's eyes. He saw truth there, for she had yet to give him a reason to doubt her. While Hawk was not so trusting of her from past experience, Jon found himself able to set aside the montage of evidence in Mentor's archive of her guilt. More than truth, he saw determination in her plan, that entering Dread's world via her own mind was the only way to get the teams physically inside the fortress.

He held up a hand to silence Hawk. "What's the risk to you, Doctor?"

Tobias gave another sad smile. "Does it really matter? Mentor says there's no way inside using the old methods, and one-zero-four is about the only area I can think of that's not likely to have six hundred troops guarding it."

"It does matter," Jon insisted. "If there's another way, then I'm not willing to risk unnecessary harm to any one of us." He gave a surreptitious glance at Hawk. "Including Doctor Tobias."

"Ask Mentor what the alternatives are, Captain," Tobias challenged.

He did just that. "Mentor?"

Mentor waited a moment before responding, analyzing the total volume of available data. "Doctor Tobias is correct. The odds of success are marginally better using section one-zero-four as an entry point. There are no other points of entry available at this time without direct confrontation with Dread forces."

Blalock threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "This is insane! If that connection is broken in any way," he said, "the Doc is dead."

Scout agreed. "He's right. A cerebral port is hardwired into the brain. A lost connection can cause seizures at the very least. If the termination is too abrupt, it short-circuits the brain, causing death. That's why research on the whole project was outlawed in the first place."

Tobias walked over to the presentation screen, her back to the group, and watched the wireframe model of Volcania rotate. Her silence, Jon was beginning to understand, was a way to calm them, to give them time to contain adrenaline and ire.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said finally, turning toward them once more, "we are sitting on the precipice of annihilation, and this is our last chance to do something about it. Believe me, I'm not thrilled with the idea of putting my melon online with the likes of Overmind and Dread. If it means that we get a fighting force inside that pile of junk, though, and we can save lives, then the risk to me is minimal."

Her crossed her arms in front of her. "If we can break that link between Overmind and Dread while they're doing this little dance, we'll kill two birds with one stone. Overmind will have nowhere to dump the information it has downloaded from Dread, and Dread will lose the bio link that keeps his heart beating. We need to knock out the processing core that links them."

She walked behind Blalock and put her hands on his shoulders. "All of you have engaged the enemy, face to face, hand to hand. What I'm proposing to do is no different except that my frontline is cybernetic. Are you all saying it's more palatable to die in a firefight?"

Blalock looked up at her. "But you're the Healer," he argued.

"Yes, I am," she said. "I am the Healer, and my job is to keep people alive. That's exactly what I'm doing by plugging in and opening those doors so that our teams can get inside and blow that processing core."

Holcomb stepped from the shadows to Jon's right. "She's right, and you all know it."

All heads turned to the hulking man as he walked around the table to take up a place next to Tobias. "We have been fighting this war day and night and have barely made any headway. If we do this, allow her to do the interface, we have the chance to deliver a crippling blow to Dread's forces from within, not like the strike and run we've been doing."

Jon listened to the arguments as they passed back and forth, considering the options available to them. "I'm still not comfortable with this," he said. "Aside from exposing Mentor to Overmind's systems, we don't have the monitoring capabilities to ensure your safety."

Tobias pulled her robes around her, a habit Jon noticed was nearly constant despite the muggy temperature in the room.

"Corporal Chase won't be combat ready, but she's familiar with the system and is more than capable of monitoring the status of the connection," she said. "She'll do just fine."

"You're saying she'll be up to this?" Jon asked, not wholly believing that Pilot would be able to get out of bed any time soon.

Holcomb agreed with Tobias's assessment. "Two hours, maybe a little more, and she'll be mobile again."

"Captain," Tobias said, "you need everyone on your team inside that fortress. Lieutenant Blalock needs all of his people. We have the ability to do this, all of us together."

Power took into consideration how his own fit into the scheme of opinion. He had long relied on his instincts to guide him, and those instincts were telling him that Tobias was right. This was the last shot, and they had better make it a good one.

"Let's say you do get that first door open," he offered, "how hard will it be to get the rest open?"

Tobias reclaimed her chair. "Provided Overmind stays occupied, the autonomic systems shouldn't be difficult."

"And once we're inside?" he pushed.

"Once inside, you'll stay in the corridor until it comes to a dead end. There's a vertical shaft there with a maintenance ladder that leads up to the same floor as the core section. That's where those suits of yours will come in handy."

Hawk displayed his disapproval of the plan. "This is nuts," he said, echoing Blalock's earlier objection. "That level will be crawling with troopers. We'll be cut in half."

"Not necessarily, Major," Tobias said, leaning back for comfort. "To this point, all of the attack runs on Volcania have been external, so the fortifying troops will most likely be stationed at the vulnerable points. You'll be attacking the whale bellyside-out."

Scout gave a quiet snort. "And we sure don't get to the belly through the mouth this time," he mumbled quietly.

A smile grew on Tobias's face while a reddish tinge grew on Scout's in embarrassment.

Tobias quickly got back to business. "Once you're near the core, you'll set charges to blow it. While one team is doing that, another will be working on disabling the emergency lockouts that will be triggered in the autonomic systems when the core goes. That's the one thing I won't be able to do for you. You must disable that system, or the pressure doors will close again, blocking your escape."

Hawk was still not buying into the plan. "And where will you be during all that?"

"Oh, I'll be around," she said, undaunted. "While you're humping it out of there, I'll be keeping them busy with a few tricks. Those pressure doors aren't the only things controlled by the autonomic systems."

Jon felt the stress creeping up into the muscles in his neck. The plan was taking form quickly, and there would be little time to double-check any plans. He felt uneasiness about going into Volcania in such a brazen manner. What bothered him most, though, was the idea of Tobias using Mentor to get them inside to start the attack. She had clearly stated the paradox of risk. If they did not use Mentor and risk damaging it, there could be no chance at attack and Dread would succeed. If they did, his team could be compromised to the point of collapse.

Mentor was unique. Its programming was the product of Stuart Power's intellect and dedication as a scientist. The program was both an instrument of peace and a hammer of war. The thought of losing Mentor, despite the available backup of its systems, was an unpleasant one. Moreover, Jon knew he faced a wall of opposition from Hawk in deciding to allow Tobias to use Mentor in the plan.

"Let's say, for the moment, that we agree to allow you to use Mentor," he said, raising his hand slightly when he saw Hawk begin to object again, "what's our timeframe to get this done?"

Tobias looked over at the console where a countdown clock was winding down by the second. "Six hours, at best estimate."

"Two hours to get into position, even with the jumpship," Jon supplied, "and another two for infiltration if we do it carefully."

"Correct," she agreed. "That leaves two hours for planning at the most."

The urgency of the situation hung in the air. Power suspected that everyone in that room knew just how short a span it was to plan a major raid into the heart of a demon. As he saw it, Tobias was correct that they had no choice but to take the chance.

Hawk played with the coffee cup in front of him. "This is all well and good, but we can't exactly land the jumpship on Volcania's doorstep. What's our landing zone?"

"Good question," Power agreed. "The approach is going to have to be quiet if we're going in the back way."

Tobias nodded. "I've been thinking about that. If I'm in control in the autonomic systems, I can redirect a transport to a location outside Volcania without raising suspicions. It will look like a routine patrol. Think you can handle a squad of mechs?"

Hawk gave a look of disdain. "We'll try to not get any hangnails that might jeopardize the rest of the mission."

Tobias was unfazed. "I'll take that as a yes. The mech unit will be redirected to your LZ when you exit the jumpgate. Any questions?"

The room was quiet, no one raising any points about their plan.

"Well," Power said, "we better get a move on, then, if we're going to make this date with Dread."

A fleeting look of relief showed on the doctor's face. Then she was right back to business. "Lieutenant," she said to Blalock, "I want you to coordinate our team with the captain and his crew. Integrate the data from Mentor into our portable systems. Sergeants Kasich and Baker will lead the technical mission while you and Captain Power's people provide the muscle."

"Understood," Blalock acknowledged with resolve, his earlier objections secured.

Power looked directly at Hawk. "Let's get a systems check on the jumpship and make sure all the fuel cells are topped off. I'll help Kasich and Scout get Mentor settled into Sanctuary's portable systems."

"Right," Hawk mumbled without an ounce of enthusiasm.

Power took no comfort in Hawk's lack of cooperation. He did not relish adding to the ire, but there was no choice. Time was short, and they all needed to work together. "Work with the lieutenant to get the supplies to make any repairs."

Hawk was silent, almost ignoring Jon's orders with blatant disregard. Anger flashed through Power once more, and he let it fly.

"Do you have a problem, Major Masterson?"

Hawk's head snapped at the full use of rank and name. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were afire with anger. His quivered ever so slightly, and his breathing was heavier.

"No," he said finally, "there's no problem."

Jon was not about to escalate the confrontation in front of the rest of Sanctuary's people, and certainly not in front of a woman who might be as guilty as Hawk thought she was. He turned to Tobias one last time.

"Doctor Tobias, if there's nothing else, I think we better get moving."

Tobias cocked an eyebrow at the exchange between Hawk and Jon. "For all our sakes," she said, "I think you're right."

The teams rose from their chairs. Holcomb made a quick dash toward Power, stopping him before he could leave the room.

"Captain, if you'll stay a minute, there's additional information you need to know."

Hawk looked at Jon, wary. Jon dismissed him with a nod, indicating there was no need to worry.

Once the room was empty, Jon sat back down at the table, across from Tobias. Holcomb remained standing near her. Jon felt uneasiness in their initial silence.

"Something else?" he asked.

"You need to understand some risks we're taking that Helene and I felt did not need to be shared with the rest of the group," Holcomb began. "Specifically, it's concerns bringing Jennifer out of her recovery to assist in the operation."

"What kind of risks?"

Tobias leaned back in her chair, folding her hands on her lap. "The kind that could be fatal, Captain."

His skin prickled with stress. "I need the facts, Doctors."

"The bottom line," Tobias said, "is that she is the only one around here besides me who's been inside the system and is familiar with its environment. I need her there to handle auxiliary commands when we do this."

Holcomb sighed heavily. "What Helene is saying is that we're going to be bringing her out way too soon. We plan to trick her brain into thinking everything is okay with a drug therapy. The truth of the matter, though, is that she's still in critical condition."

Jon looked at them, taking in the grim looks on their faces. "We just got her back, and you're asking me to risk killing her again?"

Tobias shook her head. "It's now or never, Captain. If we fail, she's dead anyway. Holcomb will be monitoring her closely, and he'll step in if things get to be too much."

Holcomb agreed. "She'll be completely monitored from a remote station. As far as Jennifer will know, everything is moving along as planned."

Jon was not satisfied, and his tone was sharp. "This is insane!"

"In every aspect, yes, but there isn't much room for discussion," Tobias said calmly. "The only reason we're telling you this is that I told you trust was earned. You've done your part. It's time for me to hold up our end of the bargain."

"What kind of odds are we talking here of something going wrong?" Jon asked, still reeling from the new information.

"We're moving up critical recovery at least two to three days by doing this," Tobias explained "She's barely begun to heal. Odds are good that she'll survive, but again, we're pushing the limits. There can be unanticipated complications." Tobias was firm but understanding. "To the point, Captain, you don't get into the wonder dome without me, and I don't get in there without her. It's that simple."

Holcomb bent down and put his hands on the table. "If everything goes right, she'll be none the wiser when all is said and done. We'll sedate her again, and she'll get the recovery time she needs."

Jon looked at the two of them, feeling ganged up on by circumstances beyond his control. This was a courtesy Tobias was showing him, he knew. She could have gone forward without warning him, but she chose to tell the truth about the situation. He could hardly argue what they were going to do. It was a necessary part of the plan. Tobias' reasoning that this was the only way for the mission to be successful was right. It still did nothing to ease the pain of knowing it could all result in yet another disaster for a young woman who had already given so much in the fight against Dread.

Jon cradled his forehead in his hand, feeling weary with stress. When he looked up at them again, he found them patiently awaiting a response from the commanding officer of the premiere resistance team.

"Do what you have to do, Doctor."


	11. Chapter 11

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 11**

**Plan of Action**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

Something was changing. Jennifer Chase's brain was drifting from a dream state toward reality. She was being forced away from the comfort of oblivion into something that she feared would be harsh. There was light that hurt, and she did her best to move away from it.

Dreams. There were so many buzzing in her head, so many pictures. Some were from an ancient and buried past that she wanted with all her being to forget. The horrors came back, along with faces and voices she would just as well forget if it were up to her. There was one face, though, that kept coming to the fore of her limited consciousness. Helene Tobias was dead, yet she was alive and well in Jennifer's memory. If the new dreams, the ones that had been added to the usual nightmares, were true, then Tobias was alive in the physical and not just the ethereal state of unconscious thought.

Jennifer wanted to stop the flow of images. She wanted to put the past as far behind her as she could, but she was being dragged into the present, into a place where she somehow knew Tobias would be waiting.

"Jennifer," Tobias' voice called, "I want you to open your eyes for me."

The Tobias voice was insistent. It was a blast from the past for Jennifer, as Hawk might have called it. Her eyes flicked open briefly, and she saw Helene's face in detail. The steel plate on the side of the doctor's head invaded the memories, placing itself in its proper place amid an aging face. Still, even above the confusion of memories butting against reality, something else was taking her attention.

Pain.

It was growing like a storm. It had been quiet at first, bearable. It was fast becoming a torrent of stimulus. The shroud of darkness was fading away, and the light was invading her senses as she involuntarily began complying with the order to open her eyes more fully.

Her whole body was now aching with ferocity, but her right side felt like an inferno. A sudden stab of pain from that area ripped her from the last remnants of the fabric of sleep and into a lit room where she lay prone in a bed.

The man she remembered seeing earlier was there, the one who had comforted her the first time she awoke. He stood over her at the side of the bed, his hand on the mattress above her head for support.

"Can you hear me, Corporal?" he asked.

Her lips were parched, and her throat was sore. She managed a nod at him, closing her eyes against the painful stab of the overhead lights. Then, a wave of stinging pain hit her torso like lightning. She arched up against it, her heart tumbling with the shock of it. Her eyes were wide again as she reeled from the assault on her senses.

Tobias' voice was calm but direct. "Give her five of methylendorphine."

Holcomb picked up a tiny vial and turned Jennifer's head slightly to insert it into the device on her neck. In nearly an instant, the pain began to fade, although it did not entirely vanish. Her heart rate slowed from its manic pace as the painkiller kicked in and took away the distress. Her eyes closed again, but time it was in relief, not exhaustion.

"You're okay," Holcomb soothed, applying a damp cloth to her forehead.

She looked up at him again, feeling more awake than the first time. Something was different. It took her a moment to realize that the tube in her throat was gone. She was able to breathe on her own. More importantly, she was able to speak.

"Where am I?" she whispered, her voice raspy and weak, speaking the first question that came to mind.

"You're safe," Tobias said.

Jennifer turned her head and felt a chill run through her body at the sight of Tobias. "I thought I was dreaming," she managed to the doctor.

"No," Tobias assured gently. "It's real. You're in a place called Sanctuary. It's a resistance cell. Captain Power and his team brought you here for treatment."

It seemed such a chore to take a breath, but Pilot made a concerted effort to take a deep swallow of air. She was rewarded with a spike of pain that felt as though she was being cut in half. Her left wrist felt crushed with the pain that mimicked what was pulsating in her side.

Tobias took Jennifer's good hand in hers. "Easy," she soothed, enduring the intense grip Jennifer applied as a result of the shock. "Drop another five," she told Holcomb, a twinge of urgency in her voice.

Holcomb inserted another vial into the device. The pain began to subside, and Jennifer's hold on Tobias' hand loosened. Sweat trickled down her neck, and Holcomb again mopped at it. Taking smaller, more manageable breaths, she recovered from the onslaught.

"Thank . . . you," she whispered in two labored breaths.

"Don't thank us too soon," Tobias said, reaching up to make an adjustment on the monitor. "We had no choice but to wake you. We need your help."

It was all so confusing, and she battled to bring it into cognitive reasoning. "I don't understand."

Pilot's mind began absorbing the facts as Tobias laid them out in order. First, Tobias gave a brief synopsis of the events that had unfolded in the previous twenty-four hours, including Jon Power returning to the base to find something of Pilot to bury. Then came the details of the bold plan to infiltrate Volcania on two fronts and the quest to stop Dread from completing the cybernetic transfer.

The pain disappeared as Tobias read out the details. Pilot found herself immersed in the story behind Tobias' quest to bring down Dread's plan. Her awareness grew, and she felt refreshed and practically fine. She told Tobias as much when the doctor was done reciting the plans for the attack.

"That's the methylendorphine," Tobias explained. "You're going to feel invincible right up to the point the stuff wears off. Then you're going to hurt . . . badly."

"Not as bad as you will be if Overmind sees you in the system. If that happens, I can't pull you out of there," Pilot warned, licking at dry lips.

Tobias reached for a glass of water on the bedstand. "I know," she said plainly, bringing the cup to Jennifer's lips. "So, here's hoping not a whole lot has changed since the last time we did something like this back at Alaceda."

The cool water was a blessing, and Chase wanted more. Tobias took the glass away, though, denying her patient too much too fast.

"Back at Alaceda, we both had clearance to be in Dread's systems," Jennifer countered.

"True."

"The security protocols will be looking for you."

"I don't think so," Tobias said optimistically. "Dread thinks I'm dead. The only protocols I'll have to worry about are the old ones that we used to bypass at the research center."

Pilot was taken aback by the notion. "I thought you were dead, too," she said quietly.

A contrite look came across Tobias' face. "I know, and I'm sorry for that. It took quite a while to recover from Dread's work. But, thanks to Holcomb," she said, giving him a fond smile, "I'm still here, and mostly in one piece."

Pilot addressed Holcomb. "What she wants to do is dangerous."

"Yes," Holcomb agreed, "but it's the only way to get in there and make it as safe as possible for the ground teams. Helene and I have talked about the risks, and she wants to do it."

Tobias sat back and stifled a yawn. "The circumstances will be different than when you used to assist me in the lab at Alaceda. This time, I'm going in using a port, not VR. I need you to help me through the layouts and watch for security checks."

Memories of seeing the autonomic systems' programming translated into visual references had been exciting. Tobias had written code to convert standard machine language into images called from a library of her creation. Subroutines were given pictures based on their function. The result was an astounding view of order and logic in a world of the doctor's creation.

At the time of their work in the core, Tobias had relied on a packet of code to convert the language to her visual perceptions. The virtual reality interface looked to the library to assign the picture to the core's structure. It was a constant conversation between two machines with human beings as the audience. With no direct access to the library, though, the interface would be nearly impossible unless Tobias had constructed an entirely new library. There would be no way to equate code to image without it.

"What about the reference library?" Jennifer asked. "If it still exists, it's going to be buried in the core, and I doubt we'll be able to go deep enough to reach it without detection. Without it, we can't translate the core's code."

"We're going to use subconscious recall," Tobias said. "I modified the port to accept the electrochemical recall of the old library style based on its location in my **cerebellum.**"

The concept was revolutionary, in spite of all of Helene Tobias' scientific accomplishments. Jennifer felt her intrigue and wonderment of the mission increasing.

"You're recalling entire memories through the port," she said, amazed.

"That's right," Tobias confirmed, "and you're the only one who worked on the old system with the original library. I can recall most of the symbols, but there are some that I won't remember. That's where you come in to play. I'll need you to analyze the anomalies to tell me their purpose. We'll also need to think on the fly if we encounter something new."

The methylendorphine was a miracle drug as far as Jennifer was concerned. She felt no lag in her senses, and the pain in her side was completely gone. Aside from a twinge every now and then under the steel cast on her left wrist, she felt ready to get to work.

"For what it's worth, that stuff you gave me is terrific," Jennifer remarked.

Tobias gave a small grimace. "Yes, it is, but don't give its due just yet. When it wears off, it's practically instantaneous. You're going to feel like hell, assuming you're even upright and able to think at that point."

"Well, for the moment, it has me feeling good enough to get out of this bed."

Tobias looked skeptical. "I'm not sure I want you up and about just yet. The regenerators still have work to do, and your moving around will slow their progress."

"I can't be effective just laying here," Pilot protested. "I need to be at your side to do this."

Holcomb gave a deep sigh. "She's right. She needs to be where you are if we're going to get into Overmind."

Tobias considered the arguments and finally relented with a compromise. "Fine. You'll stay in bed and do the prep work. That will give you almost two more hours of rest before we have to move."

"In the meantime," Holcomb said, "I'll find you some clothes."

"Something loose," Tobias admonished. "I don't want anything snagging on the regen strips."

Holcomb nodded. "Will do." Then he was gone from the room.

Tobias closed weary eyes, then opened them to look at Jennifer with a sad watch.

"I suppose you have a lot of questions," she began.

The doctor could not have been more right. There were a thousand things buzzing in Jennifer's head, and she desperately tried to latch on to one to voice it.

"I thought you were dead," Pilot said again.

"So did I."

"Then how . . .?"

Tobias shrugged. "A little preparation and a lot of luck go a long way when you've pushed Lyman Taggart to his limit."

Jennifer's mind involuntarily recalled the events of those two days. "We were in Sandtown on a patrol. When we got back, the Overunit told me you'd been taken into custody and executed for treason."

"It wasn't like I didn't know it was coming," Tobias said with slight nonchalance. "It was only a matter of time before they caught on to what was happening. It was a dangerous game with terrible odds. I lost."

"They told me what he'd done to you."

Tobias looked down at the mechanical leg and tapped it twice with a clenched fist. "Well, it was certainly more than I bargained for, I'll admit. I was figuring on a little torture, some 'supreme will of the machines' rhetoric and a little cell time. Taggart was full of surprises that day."

Jennifer was felt an overwhelming sense of sadness fill her. "I'm sorry I wasn't there," she said quietly.

Tobias dismissed the apology firmly. "Sweetheart, if you'd been there when they came to get me, you would have been on the next slab over. No," she said, "you were where you were supposed to be for a reason. I'm glad to see that something good came of that man's tyranny."

"You helped me to see the truth," Jennifer said. "I wanted to tell you when I got back, but it was too late. That's when I left."

Tobias took hold of Jennifer's hand and gave it a squeeze. "The best damned thing you've done all your life."

Holcomb returned with a set of clothes in his hands. "I found these for you. Might be a little big, but it's all we got laying around that doesn't have someone in them already," he said with a small grin.

Chase returned the smile. "I'm sure they'll be fine," she said, reaching up to scratch at an itch on her forehead.

That was when she felt the cold metal of a plate formed to the shape of her skull. A wave of panic flashed through her as she immediately focused on the one embedded in Tobias's skin. The look on her face must have told the entire story, for Tobias was quick to allay Pilot's fears.

"It's just temporary," the doctor quickly assured her, a sound of regret in her voice. "I should have told you that earlier, but I didn't think of it. I'm sorry."

Pilot felt the curve of the plate and winced slightly as she pressed down on it.

"You had a deep laceration," Tobias explained. "There are regeneration cells inside the unit that close the wound and heal it. The same technology is fixing your wrist."

"I can't believe I thought you'd . . . ," Jennifer said, her eyes closed. Her heart was pounding again, and the monitors relayed it to Tobias. "I'm sorry."

She struggled to say what she meant because there were so many thoughts pulsing through her brain again. High above it all was the advent of guilt over thinking Tobias would have mutilated a patient in the manner Taggart had assumed she was capable of doing.

"Don't," Tobias said. "If you thought that's what I did, I deserve it. I tried to warn your captain about the technology we use here, that some of it looks like Dread hardware; but I should have worried more about the patient using it."

"I guess old habits die hard when it comes to using what you have."

Tobias gave a buried wince. "My only regret is that it was all designed for Lyman's use, not to heal those he hurt."

Holcomb shook his head. "What she won't tell you, Corporal, is that she _is_ using it to help people now. I'd say she's more than made up for lost time," he said, ostensibly.

There was a look exchanged between Tobias and Holcomb that Jennifer could not readily interpret. She could not decide if Tobias was flattered or perturbed. That was what made the woman unique. She seldom let emotion rise above fact and practicality. At that moment, though, it seemed as though a lifetime of conversation passed between them, countering Tobias' guilty sentiment.

Chase could only imagine what Jon thought about meeting Tobias for the first time. Tobias had never been one for small talk, engaging events head-on and with abandon to attain her goals. She was to the point, finding idle chatter to be a waste of time and energy when there were more pressing matters at hand. If Jon tried to be civil with her, he probably received what most would have considered an icy response.

Holcomb did not retreat from the determination in his statement. He eyed Tobias with equal fervor. It was then that Jennifer decided he was the first person she had ever met who was a match for Tobias. If not a match, then he was certainly able to give the doctor a run for her money.

"She always did, Holcomb," Jennifer said, quietly.

Tobias chuckled and stood. "Well," she said, letting another quiet laugh out, "this lovefest is getting a little heavy. I think I'll go to the lab now and stick a probe in my brain."

The thought of that made Jennifer's stomach churn a bit, but she willed it away, not wanting to be distracted. She watched Tobias leave the room, but not before the doctor cast one more glance at Holcomb. Then she disappeared into the hall.

She looked up at Holcomb, and he sat down on the stool next to the bed.

"Looks like we both have a history with her," she said.

"Different circumstances, though," he answered, checking the cast on her wrist. He squeezed at her fingertips, watching the capillaries refill and return the skin to a normal reddish color.

"Those always change, don't they?"

Holcomb nodded. "Maybe that will change with what we're going to do. One way or another, though, this will all come to an end. Either Dread will die, or we're all going to be gravel."

She smiled. "I'll take the first choice, if you don't mind."

"Agreed," he said. "Look, I'm going to get you set up with a terminal, and then I'm heading for the lab. She wasn't kidding about the probe thing. I prefer to be there when she starts playing with the equipment."

"I understand completely," Chase said, rubbing away the grit in her eyes.

Holcomb stood and moved the terminal close to her bed where she could reach the controls. As he turned to leave, she stopped him.

"Holcomb?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," she said, although she knew the words were an inadequate expression compared to the debt she owed them.

"The people you should thanking are the members of your team. They're the ones who got you here alive. We just put the pieces back together."

"And Doctor Tobias?"

"Well," Holcomb said, solemnly, "she's always been another story, hasn't she?"

His eyes twinkled a bit as he said it, but she could see an underlying sadness that belied the truth of the matter. The war had been long, and Tobias had been there from the start.

"Yes," Jennifer answered, "she has."


	12. Chapter 12

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 12**

**Plan of Action**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

Jon watched from a distance, leaning against a cargo crate, as Hawk and Blalock did their best to repair the damage to the jumpship's hull. A small team had been dispatched from Sanctuary to get the ship in order before their scheduled departure for Volcania.

The ship had been set down in a field, vast and wide, covered in stalks of wheat that gently waved in the rolling winds of the plains. It was food, and an abundant source of it. Jon took in the view as the seed of a simple but pressing question formed in his mind – why had it been permitted to grow?

The survivors in the west had resorted to eating anything available – rats, assorted varmint . . . even each other if they were that desperate. Yet, here was a thriving community. If Jon had come to know one thing for sure in his experiences, no one prospered in Dread's world without a price. Nothing was free, and Robertsontown seemed to be riding to hell on horseback while the rest of the known world was left to scrounge for its very survival.

He saw Sergeant Kasich approach out of his periphery across the work area. She carried several tools in her hand.

"You have some unique flight controls on that hunk of junk, Captain."

Power smiled. "It gets it airborne," he replied.

She looked in the direction of the ship. "Our two wonder boys seem to be getting the job done on some of the repairs."

"And the peace seems to be holding. We need all the cooperation we can get at the moment."

She set the tools on the crate. "The young lieutenant can be a hothead at times, but he means well."

Power knew she had intentionally opened the door for conversation. "He seems protective of Doctor Tobias."

"He is," she said, wiping her hands on a rag. "Almost to the point of annoyance."

"You don't seem impressed by it."

She took her turn leaning on the crate, her arms folding as she watched the work on the jump ship. "Hard to take orders sometimes from a butter bar who's almost half your age. He's a pre-war commission who should have had his ass shot off by now."

"You've seen your share of action?"

She gave a small smile. "I've been around the block once or twice."

"And Blalock?"

Kasich gave a slight dismissive shrug. "He's young, still by the book, even after all this time. He can't get over the fact that academic tactics went out the window in the first biomech strike."

"So, why is he so protective of Tobias?"

"Because he sees her as his superior, I guess. He's maintaining the respect for the chain of command. Take the Healer out of power, and you take away his authority."

"There's nothing personal in it?"

Kasich was pensive for a moment. "I suppose he feels for her because she brought him into the fold, gave him a legitimate command. But I think that's the extent of it. She was nice to him, a surrogate mother who gave him the respect of his rank when no one else would. Frankly, he doesn't contribute a damned thing to our mission. He's dead weight in the field."

Power's intuition crackled with curiosity. Kasich was openly feeding him information, but he could not decipher to what end.

"Does Tobias know how you feel?"

Kasich glanced at him. "It's not just me, Captain. The rest of us feel the same. I've talked to her about how it affects the team, but she tells me to deal with it the best I can and continue giving the good lieutenant his chances. Out of respect for her, I do, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Does he have any redeeming values in your opinion?"

"Why? You worried he'll sell you out when the chips are down?"

"I think I have a right to know. I have my own team to protect."

She sighed and furrowed her brow slightly in contemplation. She seemed study Blalock for a moment before giving her answer.

"He won't run in the heat of battle, if that's what you mean. He's just not the strongest leader in the field. His age gets in the way, and he lacks a sense of camaraderie. Academy training makes young officers like that. At least it did, anyway."

"He relies on what he's been taught," Jon offered.

"That may be true," she said, "but there comes a point when that rule book has to be thrown out and you have to improvise."

Jon straightened. "At least he and Hawk seem to have called a temporary truce."

She gave a quiet chuckle of amusement. "You so sure about that, Captain?"

"What do you mean?"

"They've been spitting fire at each other all afternoon. Looks like it's heating up again."

He watched Hawk and Blalock closely. Kasich was right – there was a definite tension between them. He saw it in his first officer's eyes and posture.

Without another word to Kasich, Power began walking toward the two men, intending to head whatever was coming off at the pass. He approached them quickly, working his way between them.

"How's it going?" he asked.

Blalock straightened and closed the spanner he held in his hand. "The strut's bent a little. Landings aren't going to be smooth until you can get it replaced."

Hawk folded his arms and leaned against the jumpship's haul. "If we can't find anything in the scrap yards," he said to no one in particular, "we can always hit Tobias up for some spare parts."

Blalock's lunge for Hawk seemed to be in slow motion to Jon. The captain anticipated it and blocked the young officer's attack, knocking the spanner to the ground and holding the lieutenant by the shoulders.

Hawk was at Jon's back, reaching for Blalock, capitalizing on the opportunity to throw a punch. Jon pushed Blalock to the ground and then turned in one motion to do the same to Hawk. In a flash, the captain's ire had grown to a seething level that he reeled under control once Hawk was flat on the dusty makeshift airfield.

"That's enough!" Power shouted.

When Hawk tried to get up, Jon pushed him down with a hard boot to the shoulder. "Stay there!"

Blalock stayed put but rolled to one elbow. "I've had it with him!"

"I've had it with both of you!" Jon bellowed. "We are in this war together, dammit! Every minute you spend trying to kill one another is one less minute we spend putting a stop to Dread!"

Hawk stabbed a finger in Blalock's direction. "He's got a traitor for a leader!"

"Right now," Jon said, cutting off Hawk's tirade, "we're all that stands between what's left of humanity on this planet and letting the machines win. We have to trust one another."

Hawk and Blalock simultaneously slipped out of Power's control and began grappling with one another.

Kasich walked calmly up to the three of them, past the group of workers who had circled to watch the spectacle. Faster than the eye could track, she threw a ka-bar combat knife between the three men. It stuck into the ground with a resonating _ping_. The shock of the threat instantly drew the two fighters apart, both of them jumping to get out of the way of the blade.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her fatigues and moved to where the knife had landed.

"Seems to me," she said to Power, "that we have a shortage of trust around here lately, Captain. It's only understandable that these two can't get along."

Her nonchalance startled them all into silence. The only sound was the labored breathing of Blalock and Hawk.

Using her boot, she hitched the edge of the sole onto the hilt of the blade and flipped it out of the ground and into the air. She caught it chest-high and slid it smoothly back into the sheath on her equipment belt.

"I have had about all I can take," she continued, "with egos and bad tempers. "

Her attention turned to the lieutenant. "Sir, with _no_ respect intended, you're a waste of good military training."

Then she addressed Hawk. "And _you_, sir, should know better, because here's how it stands – if we're going to go in to Dread's base, you two are the last ones I want backing me up. I'll take my chances with the rest of the enlisted if this is the way officers act."

She glanced at Power, immediately bringing forth a conciliatory tone. "Present company excepted, Captain."

Jon considered interjecting but decided Kasich was doing just fine.

Kasich brushed at her brow that held a thin sheet of perspiration at bay. She addressed all gathered at the jumpship in a loud voice.

"We all took an oath to protect the innocent and to keep the world safe. That requires us to work together, even with outsiders. We've been given a chance to put a dent in Dread's forces, and we're going to blow it before we ever get off the ground.

"I realize," she said, "that the lieutenant and I have not gotten along, but the time for that is over." Her outrage diminished a notch as she brought it all into perspective, at least for herself. "We're approaching that zero hour we've all heard our superiors jaw about in the past. Only this time, it's for real."

"Yes, it is, Sergeant," Power said in agreement.

He turned to the group, walking among them. "What we plan to do is not impossible. I don't know much about your cell here, but I do know what my team is capable of doing. By combining our forces and our resources, we're that much stronger against Dread and his armies."

He held out a hand to Blalock. The lieutenant took it and stood up, brushing off the dust of the airfield. He helped Hawk up next, making sure to stay between the two men just in case the fight had not completely terminated.

"We have to unite as a fighting force. If anyone here is incapable of doing that, leave now."

He looked at both men, one then the other, waiting. The repair crew stood back, waiting for an answer as well. Power looked at Hawk, hoping the major would take the initiative to make the plan work. Surprisingly, Blalock stepped forward first.

"I'm in," he said, holding out a hand to Hawk.

Hawk reluctantly returned the gesture. He said nothing, just nodded an agreement with the lieutenant.

"Let's get to work," Power said.

He returned to the cargo containers. Kasich followed at his side. They walked slowly and finally made it back to the containers where the sergeant began putting tools away in a box.

"Think they bought it?" she asked quietly, cleaning a box wrench of grease.

Power smiled. "I'm sure there's a 'for now' hanging out there with Hawk, but he's good on his word, or the lack thereof. What's important is that the rest of our crews are on board."

"Forgive my pessimism, Captain, but thirteen against a couple thousand of Dread's mechs doesn't make for great odds."

He smiled slyly. "You wimping out on me, Sergeant?" Power challenged.

"Not at all, sir. All I'm saying is that we have to have a failsafe plan. A 'be-all-end-all' solution has to be available if we're going in that deep. Despite appearances, our unit is not as organized as it appears. Having an extra ace up your sleeve is a necessity."

At once, he knew what she was saying. There should be something big, something final.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked quietly.

The wind picked up, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Power and Kasich turned away from it, but he still felt the grit of the dust get in his eyes, stinging them. Rubbing only made it worse. When the breeze died, he was still clearing his vision when he noticed Kasich had left his side and was near the transport.

She got inside and motioned him to follow. When he joined her, she handed him a data pad, taking the liberty to reach over and tap the command panel to bring up a schematic.

Kasich slouched down in the driver's seat. "It's what I call a security blanket. It contains a thermal core. If it moves, it's dead when this thing goes off – biological or mech."

He examined the data, realizing after a few moments that it was the detailed layout of a high-yield explosive, powerful enough to level Volcania and an area the size of old Michigan.

"You can't be serious?" he said in disbelief. "This will kill every innocent for a thousand miles."

"And leave what's left intact on the coasts. The fallout will dissipate before it can reach them, and human life will go on, less one Lord Dread."

He quickly handed the pad back to her. "Unacceptable."

"I agree," Kasich said, slipping the pad into the side pocket of her fatigues. "That's why it's a last resort. You know as well as I do that what the Healer is suggesting we do is insane. To have the audacity to penetrate Volcania's walls is over the top, and we're going to have only one shot at shutting him down. The idea is to plant the device and use it only if all else goes to hell."

"Does Tobias know about this security blanket?"

"Know about it?" Kasich gave a snort. "She designed the damned thing."

Jon leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. "I should have known."

"Whatever your feelings are about Doctor Tobias, this weapon she's designed is our last hope. Frankly," she said as an afterthought, "it's more than you have to offer, Captain."

He looked over at her and then straightened. "Take me back to Sanctuary. I want to talk this over with Tobias."

He called out to Hawk that he would return in a while, but gave the major no more details. Power felt the need to discuss the greater merits of a bomb more powerful than anything Dread had ever unleashed on humankind. He considered the mindset of Tobias' crew. In one sense, he understood their acceptance of such a weapon as an option. They lacked the technology Power and his team enjoyed in the fight against Dread's forces. However, that was not acceptable, for he had come to know all too many times that another way existed. He had to believe that there was a better answer than killing so many to let the rest live.

Kasich bypassed the town on their way back to Sanctuary, bringing him into the ruins of the outer city. He took a moment to see what was really left of it. It resembled most other bombed out areas he had seen, except this place had been much more modern in its day, and much of the core of its architecture remained intact. It was no wonder it had caught the eye of Special Forces. Anything this solidly built had to be of value. It must have been pure luck to find the stocked bunker underneath it.

She parked the transport inside the lobby of the building. Again, guards peered down at them, keeping a trained eye on Power as he followed the sergeant into the elevator. For the first time, he noticed the floor of the car. Smears of brown and rust spattered the tile. In an instant, he knew he was looking at dried blood. Some of it may have been Pilot's, but surely there had been others brought down below in the same way.

The elevator opened into the basement floor once more. Mason and Dixon were there, and Jon instinctively reached for his weapon. Kasich gave him only a passing glance as he stood down on his guard. The corner of her mouth creased up slightly as she led the way down the hall toward past the conference room.

They entered a lab area, where Tobias was seated on a stool, working at a terminal. An array of testing equipment, both electronic and chemical, lined the walls on counters. Kasich and Jon approached cautiously, careful not to disturb the doctor's work. They waited until Tobias finished typing and turned toward them.

"Thank you for waiting," she said. "It's not often people are considerate enough so as not to interrupt a train of thought. What can I do for you, Captain?"

Kasich spoke up instead. "Captain Power has some concerns about our security blanket plan."

She reached for an empty stool and pulled it over for Jon. "You realize," she said, "it was always meant as a last resort?"

Jon sat down, feeling his adrenaline increase, readying himself for a fight. "So I've been told."

"Then I really don't see the point of your objections, Captain. I don't think any of us really wants to die in this little escapade. I'd be quite happy if all of you returned in one piece and we never had to uncrate the damned thing."

"It's not an option, even as a last resort," he said plainly. "I won't put so many people at risk because we can't come up with a better plan."

"Weapons capable of great destruction have more often than not been the deciding factor in world conflicts. They deliver the crippling blow that cannot be countered or recovered from in time to regain the upper hand."

"And in the process, we kill thousands who are just trying to survive. I'm not willing to let that possibility creep into this equation."

Kasich rested against a computer console. "Even your team has failed to bring Dread to his knees. If we don't stop Dread once and for all, you can add a million more to those thousands you're mourning so prematurely. They're going to die one way or another. They are already lost no matter what we do."

Power felt overwhelmed with astonishment. "I just can't believe you're even considering this. You both sound like you _wanted_ it to come to this."

"For the last time, of course not," Kasich said with a hint of exasperation, "but given the circumstances with Dread's quest to become a computer chip - and the fact that we don't have a hell of a lot of time to stop him from doing just that - we have to have an option of a final solution. Dread's reign has to come to an end."

"Captain," Tobias said. Then she paused. She considered her words carefully. When she looked at him, her eyes bore into him, and he could see truth there as she spoke.

"You, yourself, have admitted we have reached the final move of this chess game. Your father was a master player against Dread's skill and cunning. He was an even more effective warrior against Lyman's tendency to cheat and forsake honor. He knew this was bound to happen. That was why he created Mentor – to give you a way to combat Taggart and his machines."

"My father didn't invent a weapon to kill millions," he countered.

"No, but he did make available the technology to deliver one. Furthermore, Mentor is aware of the weapon. It has not voiced any objections so far, because the use of the security blanket in this situation is not only logical, it may be necessary. Our plan computes with Mentor. Therefore, it should also make sense to you."

"Sense, yes!" he said, his voice rising, "but not everything that's logical is right."

"If you had one ounce of understanding of what Dread will be able to do once he completes the transfer," Tobias said, her anger surfacing in her voice, "you'd be knocking at his door with Sabre already."

There was a sound in the doorway. They all turned to see Jennifer Chase standing there, her progress monitored carefully by Holcomb.

"Don't stop on my account," she said, walking gingerly into the room. "I'm eager to hear how the story ends."

Holcomb led her to a chair at a console. He eased her down into it, and then took up position behind her, leaning against the small counter there.

"How do you feel?" Tobias asked.

"I'm not ready to run any races," Jennifer answered carefully, "but I'm sure I'm better off than I was a while ago."

"Good," the doctor said, pleased.

"What's the topic?" Jennifer asked, adjusting her position in the chair.

"Sabre," Tobias said plainly, as though it had total meaning to the corporal.

If Jennifer was surprised, it showed in neither her voice nor her features. "I wondered what happened to your work with that. Dread certainly never used it."

"That would have spoiled all his fun," Tobias said. "You can't get engrams from ashes."

Jon felt outnumbered. "So, everyone knows about this weapon?"

Jennifer searched for a more comfortable position in the chair. "Doctor Tobias was involved in quite a few research projects when I was there in the Dread Youth. I assisted her in some of that research," she explained. "The Sabre weapon was one of the last projects I worked on with her."

"It was to be Dread's work of art," Tobias added. "It was going to be the be-all and end-all of his assault against the living," she said, repeating Kasich's description of the weapon.

"So I hear," Power responded. He sighed. "Look, I know that we need an assurance that we're going to stop Dread. All I'm asking is that we use it as an absolute last resort."

Tobias gave an offended look, and he could see her temper break from her control. "There are few other options, Captain! And don't think for one minute I'm enjoying having to make this choice."

Jennifer cleared her throat more for effect than out of need. "With all due respect, Doctor Tobias," she said, "I think you and Captain Power actually agree. I don't think anyone wants to flatten half of what's left of the human race."

"Exactly," Tobias said hastily. "I'm sorry if you don't already understand that we're here to save lives, Captain, not take them. The blast radius, should we use Sabre, will be contained, and we'll be able to rebuild life on the coasts and move inward in a few years."

Jennifer stifled a yawn. Jon saw weariness in her eyes, and he could only imagine how weak her body really was after the assault. Despite her mobility, she should have been in bed. The medical devices Tobias and Holcomb had employed were eerie at best, but nevertheless miraculous. Still, there had been massive tissue damage, and even miraculous devices had to have time to heal flesh.

"So, sometimes, we have to kill some to save many?" he asked.

Jennifer's eyes closed, as though she felt pain. She opened them again and focused on Jon. "Not exactly the solution you were looking for, was it?"

In that moment, he saw the toll the war had taken on her. She had become more than just a casualty. She had suddenly grown up from a child in an evil empire to a woman whose sole mission was to right the wrongs of what was left of the world. Her eyes reflected her experiences, despite her young age. She had come in to her own, and she was a veteran of the fight. She had nearly died trying to save the human lives that remained on the planet, and she did so without hesitation. If the world had been a normal place, she would be in line for awards and medals and the lauds of her fellow soldiers and citizens. As it was, she was left to her own erratically paced recovery, in a place that was nothing more than the denizen of a temporary existence until the overunits found it.

"No, it's not," he said quietly. "It's not one I want to use if we don't have to."

"But you understand may be necessary?" Jennifer asked, pressing the issue.

He looked at Tobias, and she intently returned his gaze.

"I want the detonator," he told her.

She gave half a laugh. "You what?"

"You heard me. I want the trigger. I'll be the one to decide if and when it's used."

"You can't be serious!" Tobias protested.

"You don't get into Volcania without Mentor, and I'll have him offline in a heartbeat." He turned his head to a terminal. "Mentor?" he called clearly, his threat just as apparent.

Tobias held up a quick hand. "There is no need for threats, Captain. You'll get the trigger, but I will say this - you had best do your part to get it inside Volcania to make our initial plan work. Otherwise, we will have wasted a perfectly good argument, and the demise of the human race will be on your hands."

Tobias had the gift for being to the point, and Power could not help but admire it, despite her warning being directed at him. She was practical and did not sugarcoat the situation. Too many leaders in the past had tried to appease those around them when it came to the direness of a situation. Tobias, though, knew the truth because she had been part of the process to make it. She had helped develop the very technology they were fighting, and she knew more than anyone else the exact consequences of it. She had, after all, invented many of them and had used them effectively to further Dread's empire.

Jon looked down at her metal leg, still unclear what it was that had given her that. He did not know if it if was intentional or a punishment. He knew Tobias would never give the whole truth, because that was not her way. She had a guarded past, and for good reason. While the doctor would not deny her crimes, she would also not provide ammunition to any accuser in her midst. She would not sabotage herself in the name of guilt. Ask for penance, yes, but never sabotage. She would not go down without a fight, because that was her nature. Jon could respect that, even if he felt he could never fully trust her.

"Well," he said looking at Tobias, "here's to living to fight another day."


	13. Chapter 13

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 13**

**In The Hands Of The Devil**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

The repairs to the jumpship had been completed, at least as much as was possible without the luxury of a bay with equipment. The crews had returned to Sanctuary for the final meeting before taking up their positions on the ship.

Tobias was in her chair in the briefing room, with Power seated next to her. A new problem had arisen, one that had been pushed to the bottom of the list of concerns initially. Now, it loomed in first position, demanding attention.

Scout pointed at a schematic of a hyperspace network. "The jumpgates are going to be a problem."

It was the last thing any of them wanted to hear, but Jon knew the implications better than most what it meant. If the jumpgate system was compromised, the mission might fail before it ever got airborne.

Jon tried to be optimistic. "We knew that was a possibility."

"Well, not quite this bad, Captain," Scout said with regret. "We've already had reports from spotters that Dread forces are being stationed at key points leading in to Volcania. They're watching every exit on the system. We won't be able to make a direct run at it without some interference from overunits or Soaron."

Tobias rubbed at her neck wearily and sighed. "That bird always seems to complicate the simplest of plans."

Blalock spoke. "What about a diversion? Something to confuse them into thinking we're coming from one direction when we use another?"

Scout shook his head. "We have one jumpship, the only one capable of navigating the system. Guidance computers are calibrated to keep the ship on track. There's no room for error. One tilt the wrong way inside the tube and you're history."

Jon considered this fact. "So we get them to chase us," he dared.

Tobias gave a half a laugh, disbelieving. "That's quite a testosterone-laden suggestion, Captain."

"If we can get them to chase and send off a few volleys to the rear," Power argued, "one hit could be enough to get them to go off course enough to get rid of them."

"That's all well and good, Captain," Scout said, "but it doesn't handle what's waiting for us when we exit. You can bet they'll have every path leading to Volcania fortified."

Power was undaunted. "If we could change course inside the system, we could outnavigate them and confuse the defense forces. Once we started through one gate, they'd expect us to continue down the tube until we reached the destination. If we could turn, they wouldn't be able to anticipate, much less keep up with where we'd come out."

Sergeant Kasich was seated next to Scout. "I may have a better idea."

She pulled over a terminal and began typing commands. The display in the room changed to the internal design of the security blanket. In the center of the schematic were five egg-shaped pods, linked by connectors. She zeroed in on the elements.

"These are the linked thermal cores to the security blanket," she explained. "Put together, they make a big bang, each pod feeding off the energy of those around it to level hundreds of kilometers."

She isolated one pod. "Just one, however, will clear about one unobstructed kilometer. It would be enough to get whatever was waiting for us out of the way."

Tobias was skeptical. "And how do you plan to deploy it, Sergeant?"

Hawk supplied the answer. "We shoot it out ahead of us from inside the jumpgate system."

"Yes, sir," Kasich responded, appearing relieved that someone could visualize her plan. "Once we launched it from the ship, it would be going that much faster than we were traveling. If we slowed our speed once we launched, we'd put that much more distance between us and the explosion."

Scout showed his discontent. "There's a chance the backwash from the blast could collapse the exit. If that happens, it'll be like flying into a brick wall."

"Not if we let gravity do the work for us," Kasich responded. "Once the pod leaves the gate, it will descend. The blast should be directed away from the gate, leaving us free and clear to exit."

Scout, though worried, contemplated the action. "We'd have to write a guidance program for the delivery pod to make sure it dropped down fast enough, but that shouldn't be a problem."

Power ran through the scenario in his mind. It was not the best of plans, but it was agreeable. "That takes care of the ground forces. What about Soaron?"

"I've handled him before," Hawk supplied with confidence. "Without any backup from the ground, it's a one-on-one with the jumpship and me. Same dance, different floor."

"All right," Power agreed. "We'll try the gates and see what's waiting. Scout, I want navigation set up so that we can immediately reenter the gate if we're detected. That should bait them enough to follow. We'll fire to the rear in flight and see if we can trap them in the conduit."

"Yes, sir," Scout acknowledged.

"Once inside Volcania, we'll divide into teams. Tank, you'll take point until we're near the core. Once we reach the core, Scout, you and Sergeant Kasich will get in there and shut down Dread's program with the charges. We'll need information on troop movements before the charges are set on the core."

Kasich nodded. "Data links have already been prepared. We just plug in and get the data."

"Good," Power said, pleased with the sergeant's efficiency. "Hawk, you and Lieutenant Blalock will lead our ground forces to get the attention of any responding forces to the floor. Lead them away from the core as best as you can until we're ready to blow it."

Hawk gave a quiet, discontented sigh. Blalock showed no enthusiasm, either, at the thought of working with a personal enemy. Power was not about to let it affect the mission.

"Is there a problem with my order, gentlemen?" he said sternly.

Hawk's eyes did not leave Blalock's. "No, no problem, Captain," he said flatly.

Power accepted the answer and moved forward with the briefing. "In the meantime, Doctor Tobias will be doing her best to open doors for us. We need to keep communication back to this base at a minimum so Dread doesn't have a chance to lock on to the signal."

"That won't be necessary, Captain," Tobias interjected. "Since I will be linked directly to the secondary system, I will be able to communicate directly to you through Volcania's own network. All you have to do is yodel and I'll hear you."

Tank smiled proudly and fondly. "I am quite good at yodeling," his accent thick and bold.

Whether or not Tank had intended to make a joke, it was a moment of levity that was sorely needed in a very stressful moment. Even Tobias smiled, which Jon noticed was a few and far between event. At that moment, she looked at Jon, ignoring the murmur of conversation in the room, and the brief, genuine smile faded. She nodded at him as if to say they were as ready as they were going to be, that they were approaching the point of no return. Though their combined team would never be as efficient as was truly needed for a mission of that magnitude, it was all that stood in the way of annihilation. Dread had finally pushed them to the point of no return. There would be no outside help, no assistance from civilians willing to join up in the fight. It was up to twelve individuals and one self-proclaimed cyborg with a shady past to save the world once and for all.

"Then I guess that's it," Power said, bringing the room to order once more.

"That's it," Tobias responded. "I'll take my leave of you now to set up the interface with Mentor. I'll see you on the other side."

"Good luck, doctor," Power said.

"The same to all of you," she said to the team. "Let's give 'em hell."

The briefing adjourned, and Tobias was quick to leave the room. Power watched as she gave a fleeting glance to the fighters and finally one more directly at Power. Without even so much as an acknowledgement, she turned and left.


	14. Chapter 14

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 14**

**Eye of the Storm**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

Jennifer sat at the computer terminal in the lab, browsing the catalog of old system files from Volcania and the New Order. It was disturbingly familiar, her past rocketing back into the fore of her mind so quickly that she had to stop a few times to get the bearings that separated past from present. Tobias had somehow managed to bring to Sanctuary information on projects that were meant to spell devastation to anyone exposed to them who was not in Dread's good graces or who did not serve a purpose in bringing about a new world of machine rule.

The Sabre was detailed quite clearly. It had even been improved since the initial project designs. It was an efficient killing method that Dread had endorsed. Now, the plan was to use it against him and bring his reign of terror to an end. That was something she knew Jon simply did not understand. In no uncertain terms, large weapons were necessary to bring Dread to an end. She doubted Jon could even grasp the full magnitude of Dread's power. What the tyrant lacked in troop strength he held in his ability to convince the human beings in his service that his rule was inevitable and necessary. The flood was coming. It was simply a question of who was worthy and willing to serve in order to be preserved on the ark of salvation.

Tobias, she was certain, must have been an enigma if not a shock to her team. Holcomb had intimated there was trouble at first, but he gave no details of the incident. There was tension in the lab that was palpable and uncomfortable. There were things that Jon simply could not have known or understood about Tobias, information that might take a long time to explain. It was a period of her life that was so confusing and terrifying. Tobias had done the unspeakable to turn Jennifer's mind toward the greater good and allowed her to turn away from the lure of glory in the New Order. Tobias's actions spelled her own death at Dread's hand. Her resurrection, however, was a mystery that would be solved when the mission ended. Questions would be answered as promised, for Tobias was good to her word in most ways.

There was a sound at the doorway, a clanking metal sound on the tile. Jennifer turned to see the doctor standing there, watching quietly.

"A bit of light reading?" Tobias asked.

Jennifer thought of her answer carefully. "I wanted to be prepared."

Tobias entered and sat down next to the corporal. "I have a feeling your captain is well capable of doing this."

"I'm sure he is, too. I was more worried about you."

"Don't worry about me," Tobias said with a dismissive wave. "This is like going home again. I'm actually looking forward to it."

"Why?"

"Because it's been a very long time since I've been able to be a thorn in Lyman's side. I have the opportunity to burn him into oblivion. What's not to look forward to with a chance such as that?"

"Because you and I both know what can happen, much better than anyone who knows what we plan to do."

Tobias drew a deep, weary breath and put her hand on Jennifer's. "You have had your chance to redeem yourself. You are no longer known as Youth Leader Chase. You're a freedom fighter who has the opportunity every day to bury the past and move forward. This is my chance."

Jennifer shook her head in dismay. "You're wrong. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't shown me the way out."

"I only pointed out the inconsistencies of what we were doing. You made the decision to leave on your own. I always knew you would find your way, and not down the path Dread had paved for you."

"Do they know what really happened? Do they know the truth? From what I can tell, Captain Power doesn't."

Tobias was gentle. "He'll know in time. I'm sure you'll tell him some day. As it is, it's probably better that he's none the wiser now. Otherwise, he might doubt his ability to get them inside the complex. He trusts that I will get the doors open because of what he knows of my past. That is something that shouldn't be compromised."

The doctor sat down and picked up a probe from the lab table. She examined it closely until she was satisfied with its condition. The metallic gleam of its surface hinted at its preciseness. Her hand rose to the plate on her temple. She fingered it thoughtfully, a serious look on her face that worried Jennifer.

"What's wrong?"

Tobias lowered her hand back to the probe. She examined it again, slowly. "I always thought about what I would say to Lyman if I ever had the chance. Now, here it is, and I'm afraid I'll be speechless."

"You always told me to keep things simple. Maybe that's what you should do if you have the chance to talk to him?"

"And I probably will," Tobias concluded. "I'll have to separate what I want from what there is time to do. Speaking of time, we should get moving."

Jennifer nodded and turned to the terminal to her right. She typed in her code with one hand and brought Mentor online. Tobias removed the plate covering the port and picked up the probe once more.

"I'll need your help with this," the doctor said, handing the probe to Jennifer. "Do you see the locking rings on the port?"

"I see them," Jennifer said, accepting the probe. She brought it up to the port in Tobias' head and carefully inserted it into the hole, grimacing slightly at the act. She pushed it down to its limit, giving it half a turn to lock it in place.

Tobias breathed in sharply, as though in pain. Jennifer called to Mentor, alarmed.

"Mentor! Report!"

Mentor's gentle face appeared on the console screen. "One moment, Corporal. Establishing data link."

Tobias' eyes rolled back, and she whimpered quietly.

"Mentor!" said Jennifer urgently. She took hold of the probe handle, prepared to remove it in a moment if the episode did not lessen.

"Connection complete, Corporal Chase," Mentor said calmly.

All at once, Tobias relaxed, sinking down tiredly in the lab chair. She was breathing heavily, as though she had been running a race. Then she blinked several times, coming to grips with reality once more.

"Doctor Tobias?" Jennifer said, supporting Tobias' head in her hands until the doctor had recovered further.

"I'm all right," Tobias said, calming. "I'm all right."

"No, you're not," Jennifer protested. "Mentor, display Doctor Tobias's vital signs."

At once, the computer complied, showing the doctor's rapid heart rate and increased blood pressure. Brainwaves were erratic on the chart, illustrating the effect of the probe on living tissue.

After examining the readings, Jennifer said, "We're not doing this. We're stopping now." She put her hand on the probe to remove it.

Tobias grasped the corporal's wrist tightly and pulled it away. She looked up at Chase with steeled resolve. "No, we're not stopping. It's just a different interface. Mentor is compensating. It'll be fine in a moment."

Already, Tobias' vital signs were normalizing. Jennifer let go of the probe and watched as the doctor relaxed a bit. Tobias straightened in her chair, in control once more.

"Well, that was unique," Tobias quipped, nearly back to her old self. "Shall we get down to business?"

Jennifer looked once again at Tobias's statistics on the screen. Except for an elevated heart rate, the brainwave activity had settled. She still was not satisfied that Tobias was safe, but she did as Tobias asked. "Mentor, prepare to establish a link."

"Mentor," Tobias said, "scan for the Cumulus weather satellite. We'll use that to communicate to Volcania's secondary systems."

Mentor was quick to comply. "Satellite located. Link established."

On a second terminal, an image appeared, showing a schematic of data uplink to the satellite. Tobias' communication with it streamed forward, flowing through tunnels of data paths until it came to a doorway of sorts. Jennifer turned to her terminal and brought up a map of commands, shapes that represented what could be described as keys to doorways. There was one specific to Cumulus, and Jennifer showed it to Tobias on the screen.

"This one," she said.

Tobias, through a thought, brought up a library of symbols, selecting the proper key. She took hold of it, transferring it to the gateway. The symbol superimposed on the doorway. The wall blinked an acknowledgement and opened. A downward track spiraled on the screen toward a data fortress with yet another doorway.

Again, Jennifer recalled the symbol library, finding three possible matches. It was a time for choice. Only one would open the doorway. The other two would alert Overmind of an attempt on the secondary system, ending the mission before it even started.

"Which one?" Jennifer asked nervously.

Tobias thought for a moment. "The oldest. That will be the test link we used when the system was under construction. It was a back door key, never committed as an official login to Volcania's systems."

"If Dread locked it out, this is going to be a very short trip."

"He can't lock out what he didn't know was there," Tobias said, picking the oldest symbol.

Tobias moved it over the doorway, pausing before applying it to the cyberlock. She took a quick breath and let it out slowly. "Here we go."

She pushed the symbol over the lock. There was a brief moment of inactivity that made both their nerves jangle. The system was thinking, a dangerous response.

'It's not taking it," Jennifer said.

"Give it a moment." Tobias said quietly. "We're old friends. It's just trying to remember who I am."

The door blinked once. There was an interminable wait before it blinked again, this time with three successive chirps. The doorway opened, allowing Tobias to pass through without hindrance.

The data spiral continued until the main body of the secondary control system could be seen in the distance. Tobias charged toward it, not willing to slow down on any account until she came to what oddly enough looked like a wooden door in cyberspace. The handle looked old, an iron ring secured at its edge. Tobias reached for it, her very human hand visible on the terminal screen. Tobias, herself, sat with her hands folded in her lap. Her mind was equating action and thought into a visual representation in the secondary control system.

Jennifer was amazed. When they had first started working with the interface years before, a wire frame model had represented Tobias' body. Now, there was flesh and a real-looking interpretation of objects in Volcania's secondary system.

"Incredible," Jennifer said.

"I had a lot of time on my hands," Tobias explained. "I rewrote the original interface to allow me to effectively see things as they were, not as they were programmed."

"Makes it a lot easier to run the interface."

"It'll also make it easier to see any probes coming our way. Mentor, initiate the motion tracking protocol in Sanctuary's database."

Mentor complied with the command. "Protocol begun, Doctor Tobias."

Tobias' eyes were unseeing of the reality of the lab. Her eyes had become the looking glass into Volcania's subsystem. "With the protocol running, we'll be able to see any patrol bugs that come our way. You'll need to watch my back in here. If one approaches, you'll need to put me in standby mode so I appear passive in the system."

Jennifer pulled up the program on the terminal. In the center, she saw a small yellow circle with a smile painted in its center. "Interesting choice of icons."

"Why shouldn't I be happy? We're about to give Lyman a birthday surprise."

Tobias navigated down a hallway until she came to a panel on the wall.

"Interesting," the doctor remarked.

"What is it?"

"Troop reports. Let's see where Lyman is putting his eggs."

A moment passed. Then, the tracking protocol sounded an alarm.

"Tracker approaching," Chase said, feeling a sense of fear.

"Standby mode!" Tobias said urgently.

Jennifer altered the level of feed into the autonomic system. The tracker rounded the corner. Jennifer could see it. It resembled a beetle, scurrying along the hall, looking for anything out of place from what it was told should be there. It stopped when it reached Tobias. Long tentacles sprang forth from its head, reaching for the doctor's cyber body, feeling it, and examining its form.

Tobias remained calm, but her vitals showed a jump in heart rate again as the bug ascended the wall for a better look. It came into view more clearly, and its visage was no more pleasant up close. From the tracker protocol's point of view, Jennifer watched as it reached for Tobias' head and encompassed it with the tentacles. She watched as Tobias closed her eyes. The interface was not only visual. It utilized the five senses to enhance the cybernetic experience.

The bug inspected Tobias for a few more moments. Then, the tentacles retracted. It dropped to the floor of the hallway and scampered away, satisfied that nothing was out of order. Chase watched the map on her terminal until the bug rounded a corner and was gone.

"You're clear," Jennifer said with relief. "Bringing you out of standby."

Again, Tobias took a breath and gave a slight shiver. "I hate the way those things feel." She recovered quickly and returned to her view of the panel. "Now, about those troops. Looks like he has them stationed at every jump gate."

"Just as we thought."

"So, why don't we just recall them?" Tobias asked thoughtfully.

Could it be that simple? Jennifer was not confident. "Overmind might not like that."

Tobias was undaunted. "That monster is busy baking a new Dread. It's not paying attention to troop movements. Otherwise, I would have seen it actively directing their placement. The units are static, waiting for something to drop into their webs."

"They were probably told to hold their positions no matter what."

"What gate is closest to Volcania?" Tobias pressed.

"C24," Jennifer recalled readily. It was a gate they had all longed to use, but Dread's forces were always in such proximity to it that it had been a useless destination.

"Contact your captain. Tell him to go to that gate."

"They'll be under orders to stay there, no matter what command is issued from Volcania's systems."

Tobias smiled. "Really? Watch this."

Jennifer watched Tobias in the tracking protocol as the body of the doctor suddenly transformed into a likeness of Dread. The new image was eerie, an exact replica of Dread.

"Doctor Tobias?" Jennifer asked, alarmed.

The smile on Tobias' human form was there, but the electronic version was accompanied by Dread's voice that was harmonious with the doctor's.

"Call your captain, Jennifer." When Tobias sensed the hesitation, she said, "I can do this. Call Captain Power and tell him to use the gate. It's either this, or we fry any innocent who is still alive in Volcania's borders."

Jennifer knew they were in the last run for humanity's survival. If Tobias failed, then that would be the end of their attempts. Tobias, she knew, had not led them in the wrong direction yet. She knew the doctor's resolve to rid the world of Lyman Taggart and his tyranny long before Captain Power had intervened in the young woman's life. She did as she was asked.

The corporal activated her comm link. "Chase to Captain Power."

The answer was swift through the communications system. "Power here. Go."

"Captain, Doctor Tobias believes she can draw the troops away from C24 from here. You'll be clear to take the gate directly to Volcania."

Even through the communications net, Power sounded skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, though it felt like a lie. "She has access to troop control and can redirect their movements."

There was another pause. "Are _you_ sure, Pilot?"

Jennifer looked once more to the screen at Tobias' imitation of Dread. Then she looked at the doctor's human form, which had not changed countenance. Tobias, she felt, believed the troops could be redirected.

"I'm sure," Jennifer said after a moment. "Head for C24."

The answer was not immediate. Jennifer could easily envision Captain Power weighing the options. C24 was forbidden to them to that point,

"Standby mode," Tobias called.

Jennifer brought the link into passive mode.

"Captain," Tobias said, "trust me that I can move them. Start your run. They'll be disoriented and in motion toward Volcania by the time you arrive."

"Doctor, if they're not far enough away," Power said, "we'll be flying into a hornet's nest."

"I haven't lied to you yet, Captain," Tobias said adamantly. "You have to trust that I'll do what I say."

Again, there was a long pause. Jennifer ran through the options should the captain deny the request. Then the comm link activated.

"Setting navigation for C24. We're all crossing our fingers, Doctor," Power noted.

Tobias smiled slightly. "I'd have thought you'd be doing that anyway, Captain." She turned to Jennifer. "Active mode."

Jennifer did as she was told and brought the active link online.

Tobias touched the panel and spoke in Dread's voice, "Lord Dread to Overunit Balash. Return with your forces at once to Volcania."

Almost immediately, the overunit guarding C24 called for confirmation, and his face appeared on the command panel. The emblem on his overunit hat gleamed in the light of the troop transports to the right of him. His face was young, as was typical of the overunit commanders. It was easier for Dread that way, easier to mold the mind of the young than to change that of the free and older.

"Overunit Balash to Lord Dread, please confirm last command."

Tobias' eyes closed, her body stiffening at the challenge. "Overunit Balash, are you questioning a direct command from your lord?"

"Of course not, my lord," the overunit responded nervously. "I was simply confirming . . ."

"It is not your position to question my reasons, overunit!" Tobias said with fervor. "Return your forces to Volcania immediately. Do _not _question my command, or you shall find yourself answering for your insolence!"

The overunit gave a respectful dip of the head. "At once, my lord."

The panel's screen darkened. Tobias changed back to her form inside the computerized world and gave a quiet whistle of satisfaction. "That felt strange."

"I'll bet," Jennifer empathized. "It was strange just watching it."

This time, Tobias called for Power herself. "Tobias to Power, your exit gate should be clearing."

"Good work, Doctor, but what about Soaron?" Power asked.

Tobias consulted the panel again. She looked disappointed. "Unfortunately, that bugger isn't showing up on the secondary control system. Watch your back when you exit the gate. Soaron may not follow instructions as well as his human counterparts."

"Still better odds than before, Doctor," Power said. "We can handle Soaron if he's there. Good work."

"Godspeed to you and your crew, Captain. We'll be standing by to open the door for you," Tobias assured.

"Power out."

Jennifer was watching the tracker screen for bugs when a painful twinge caught in the small of -her back. She jumped at the shock of it. She emitted an involuntary guttural sound of pain and shock. Tobias turned quickly at the yelp and threw her connection to the secondary system into standby herself. She turned toward Jennifer, lending a hand of support to the struggling corporal.

"God . . . " Jennifer gasped, trying to catch her breath.

Tobias reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew a vial of medication. She reached around Jennifer's neck to the device and slid it into place. Almost immediately, the younger woman began to calm as the pain eased.

"I tried to tell you," Tobias scolded gently. "When that stuff wears off, you're going to hurt. It happens quickly."

Tobias put a comforting hand on Jennifer's shoulder, helping her to ease back until the methylendorphin was fully in control of the corporal's pain factor. Tobias felt for Jennifer's pulse, her cold, slender fingers pressing down on the radial artery.

Holcomb quickly entered the room and took up position on the other side of Jennifer's chair. He looked over at Tobias with concern. "Everything under control? I was getting triage ready when I heard the alarm."

Tobias did not even look at him. Her concern was focused on Jennifer. She put a hand on the corporal's head, more in an effort of contact than physical support. "Well, now we know the schedule for injections. I had an amp in my pocket, but I'll need more just in case."

"Here's two for now," Holcomb said, handing Tobias two more vials. "I'll bring some from the infirmary before you use the last of that."

"You should feel better in a moment," Tobias told Jennifer.

The rapid thump of her heart slowed in a moment to a more acceptable level. Jennifer felt some semblance of control again, catching her breath and managing to deny the twinge of nausea that crept into the back of her throat.

"I'm fine," Jennifer said, trying to straighten. Tobias held her firmly back in a reclined position.

"Take it easy while you can. They won't reach the gate for another ten minutes or so. Your body's reminding you that you should still be horizontal. We're fooling tissue into thinking you're well enough to be doing this."

Jennifer could not even manage a response. While the pain was subsiding quickly, the lingering effects from the shock of it were jangling her nerves like a set of Christmas bells that chimed incessantly in her head. Her skin was energized, much like when a power suit was activated yet more painful and without any immediate end. Her hands trembled for control.

Holcomb took hold of her hand, enveloping it in a paw-like grip that emitted warmth against her chilled skin. He looked across to Tobias. Jennifer caught the briefest glimpse of tension between them. A new spasm in her back tore her attention away from their stare-down to the point she did not give a damn what it all meant. She was hurting, and in no small way. She had to get her bearings if she was going to be any use to Tobias, Captain Power and the mission.

She had every intention of begging off Tobias' warning to rest in the time allotted. Then again, ten minutes was not a long time to wait for the jumpship to get to the landing site. There were no more doors for Tobias to open at the moment. They had done the hard part, getting inside the secondary system without being detected.

No, ten minutes was not a long time to wait, but it was a lifetime of rest she desperately needed.


	15. Chapter 15

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 15**

**Eye of the Storm**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

--

The jumpship entered the corridor with a dull thump as the vehicle crossed over into hyperspace. The cockpit was thrown into a temporary wash of bright light as the tunnel opened. Jon's eyes squinted against it. In all the times his team had used the jumpgates, he had never grown accustomed to the shock of light with each entry. It was over as soon as it began, much like a flash of lightning.

He settled back in his chair, watching the readouts to his right as Tank piloted the ship through the jumpgate. Everything was as stable as could be given their lack of preparation time. It looked strange to see Tank at the controls and not Pilot. In truth, Jon wished Jennifer had been at the stick on this mission. Their flight path had to be accurate and exact. Furthermore, they could encounter resistance at any point. Jennifer was the best pilot he had ever known, flying the ship like it was an extension of her body, like moving an arm or a finger. She was in tune with its nuances, able to anticipate the ship's limitations and had the ability to coax it into doing what she wanted at a time when it was needed.

Tank was a qualified pilot, but he lacked the finesse of flying the machine in a combat situation. Tank was a ground fighter, willingly putting himself in the point position of the squad to take the heavy brunt of shots from the enemy while the others maneuvered to better positions. He earned his nickname well, plowing through mechanical fighters like bowling pins. What he lacked in the finesse that Pilot possessed he made up for in sheer strength and boldness.

Scout was busily scanning for any approaching enemy targets in the corridor. Kasich sat at his side, readily adapting to the ship's systems and providing an extra set of eyes on the sensors. Scout and Kasich seemed like a matched set, each thinking much alike, each having a passion for the technology of their trade. Jon liked Kasich, appreciating her candor and her intolerance of the rift between Blalock and Hawk. She was one Power would readily bring on to the team should she ever part company with Tobias' crew.

Then there was Blalock.

Jon sighed inwardly as he looked at the young lieutenant seated against the hull of the jumpship. He no longer looked like he was pouting from his difficulties with Hawk. Instead, he looked like a fresh recruit, scared and thinking the worst of their impending mission. Power could hardly blame him. They were heading into the mouth of hell with nothing more than half a plan and a will to survive. That did not make for good odds no matter what the level of experience any of them had, but it must have seemed suicidal to Blalock.

There were two other fighters seated on the ship - Lyle and Burgess. Power had not learned much of their function in the group except that they were muscle and most likely adequate firepower when needed. They had probably seen as much action as Kasich, for there was no separation by anyone of their level of service to the group. They had all seemed to come as a package, one Jon had not had the opportunity to test. There had simply been no time to determine even the proper partnerships for the mission except for that of Kasich and Scout. Hawk would be on his own, flying for as long as possible to keep the outside forces and Soaron busy. The rest of them would be leap-frogging through the halls of Volcania until they reached the control room that would take Dread out of commission.

Suicidal, indeed.

The comm system crackled with static as the energy inside the corridor battled with the ship's electronic systems until Scout could clear up the signal. Jon heard Jennifer's voice.

"Chase to Captain Power. The overunits have begun retreating to Volcania. You should have a clear run to the target."

Her voice sounded tight, but he declined to inquire about her condition. She was in the care of Tobias and Holcomb should anything go wrong.

"Power to Chase. Acknowledged. We're beginning our run. Any read on Soaron's position?"

There was another pause, then she replied, "Looks like it's patrolling over Volcania. Doctor Tobias will keep an eye on it until you land."

Power felt a wave of relief that they might not have to deal with Soaron on their exit. "We copy. Any word on Blastarr?"

"Negative. Still no sign of it from any of the recovery units."

"Good news. We'll talk to you when we land."

Tank pushed the jumpship into overdrive and dove into the stream.

Scout continued to monitor the sensors. "No takers on our signature yet, Captain."

Power nodded. "Let's hope it stays that way." He turned to Hawk, who had been uncommonly quiet. "You ready for Soaron to greet us if he gets wise to the exit?"

Hawk looked up at him, nonplussed by the question. H"I monogrammed my missiles for him this afternoon. Put some X's and O's on them just for the occasion."

Power smiled in spite of the situation. No matter the situation, Hawk's sarcasm was one constant he could count on to keep a certain amount of levity. More than that, that same sarcasm bolstered their attitude that the team was tough, a polished battle machine that was capable of holding its own against superior numbers and firepower.

He heard a chuckle come from the direction of Lyle and Burgess. Even Blalock gave a small smile, probably out of sheer gladness that Hawk would be the one engaging the flying monster and not him. What he did not understand was that Hawk relished another chance to bring the big bird down once and for all. The major reveled in the opportunity to cause it pain, which Jon was sure it did feel when injured by rockets and numerous shots from their weapons. They all knew the satisfaction brought about when Soaron lay slain in pieces on the ground. It was a fleeting victory, for Soaron would regenerate with time. Blastarr, he feared, would return to the mix at some point, as well. Human bodies, on the other hand, took longer to heal, if at all possible. Unlike the machines that could endure hellacious attacks, human bodies were fragile, even when encased in armor. Flesh was subject to irrevocable damage that, in the very best circumstances, scarred. In the case of machine attacks, human bodies were either slaughtered or transformed into engrams for the machines. Either fate meant death.

"Power to Pilot, what's the status on our transport?"

"One troop transport headed toward your exit. ETA seven minutes."

"Copy," Power acknowledged. "Two minutes to gate exit."

He stood from his position from the command console and stepped down into the hull area. He looked to his team around him. "Let's get ready."

Tank set the autopilot and joined Power's team. Together, they put a fist to their badges. Jon spoke the words that brought them into fighting form.

"Power on."

Jon saw a bright flash. He felt the tingle of the power suit energize, enveloping his body in armor, encasing him in a battle gear that made the spec ops team salivate at its protection. When he could visualize the cabin again, Tank, Hawk and Scout stood before him in armor, ready to go.

Tank slid uncomfortably back into the cockpit to guide the ship the final way to the exit point. Despite the bulk of his armor, he did not complain. He resumed his duties as pilot, leading them through the tunnel toward the exit.

Hawk moved toward the back of the cabin near the roof hatch, ready to exit and provide aerial watch over the area. It was likely their exit would attract some attention, but Power hoped that the big bird would remain flying cover over Volcania and not get curious about a lone ground unit being sent to an already vacated area.

"When we land," Power told the crew, "we're going to have only a few minutes to set up our ambush on the scout unit. Remember, we need the vehicle intact, so draw the troopers inside it away before you fire."

Lyle shouldered a backpack of equipment. "Roger that, sir."

"If something goes wrong, we'll regroup at the ship and find another way," Power added.

"Roger that again, sir," Lyle added.

"Thirty seconds to exit," Scout advised.

The tension was harsh, more tangible than the feeling of the power suit energizing. Power could see the exit ahead of them. The vortex of the jumpgate was coming to an end before them. Tank punched the ship through it and immediately banked the ship up and to the left, making an aerial u-turn to bring the ship to a stop. He set down quickly below the gate exit, powering down the ship to minimize its signature on the scopes of the approaching transport. Power checked the surveillance cameras. They were in a wooded area, near a gully that served as a road to Volcania. It was strange to see trees, but he supposed there were places that they existed. Trees had grown through the chaos and destruction of other places that had been hit by natural disasters. It was safe to assume there were some places even around Volcania that would still sustain life, no matter how rudimentary. Cockroaches were not the only survivors of Dread's destructive ways.

Power hit the ramp release to the ship. The wall of the hull dropped away toward the ground, and the team disembarked quickly and efficiently. Lyle and Burgess followed Power closely, choosing to forego their own leader in the face of battle. Power realized he had barely had a conversation with the two men. They were quiet and contemplative every other time he had been around them, including the briefing. It piqued the captain's curiosity.

"Lyle," he whispered as they took up positions around the wooded gully. "What exactly do you and Burgess do best?"

Lyle lay down against the embankment and pulled out his weapon, a precision blast rifle. "I kill things from a long distance, sir."

"How far away?"

Lyle looked at him slyly. "How far away do you need it?"

Power gave a smirk. "That's good to know. And Burgess?"

"Sir, let's just say he and Lieutenant Ellis are in competition."

"Good," Power said with satisfaction. "That will help pave the way once we're inside. How fast can you pick these guys off if we get them out of the transport all at once?"

Lyle smiled. "Like fish in a barrel, Captain. Just keep your distance and stay out of my field of fire."

"You got it." He tapped his comm link. "Power to Pilot."

"Pilot here. Go, Captain."

"How many mechs are on board the transport?"

There was a pause. Power imagined the corporal asking Tobias to check on the detail.

"Looks like seven on the transport. One overunit on board."

That created a problem. Power had taken an oath to protect all human life, no matter the side he or she took in the war. That included overunits.

Lyle looked to Power, sensing the conflict. "You're not seriously having a problem with me popping the overunit?"

Power tried to run through options in his mind. "If you're that good a shot, you can wound him."

Chase entered the conversation through the comm link. "Captain, if you don't take the overunit out first, you run the risk of Volcania being alerted. I recommend taking a kill shot."

The idea of taking another human life was loathsome to him. His father had stressed that all human life had value, even those in the service of Lord Dread. His father, though, had made him promise that in a different time, under different circumstances. The stakes had never been so high, so final. He knew the day would come when he would shape his own set of values over his father's. This was to be the day.

"Take out the overunit," he said to Lyle finally. "We'll concentrate on the mechs."

Lyle nodded in satisfaction. "Good enough, sir."

Power took a deep breath. "Take your position, Sergeant." He keyed the comm link again. "Power to all units – take cover. Sergeant Lyle will fire the first shot. After that, you're weapons free."

They set up twenty feet apart from each other, creating a dominant field of fire in the path of the mech unit. The sound of the transport was soon in the distance, rumbling over difficult terrain and powering over small boulders that blocked the roadway. Lyle brought his weapon to bear, sighting in the overunit as the first target.

Jon looked through a scope at the transport. The overunit was young, a female with dark hair that was obscured by a uniform hat. The gold chain and emblem of the mech empire hung loosely from her neck and glinted at times in the setting sun. Dusk was a shield, an asset to the ambush.

Power keyed his link again. "Steady. Wait until we have them in the middle of the crossfire."

He looked over at Lyle. The sniper was concentrating his sights on the transport. His ankles were crossed for stability on the uneven hillside. His hands were steady, and he showed no signs of nervousness in light of what he was about to do. He was professional and skillful in demeanor, doing what he had been trained to do by the government.

"Sergeant," Power said, "fire at will."

The transport was in the gully, moving forward to the left of Jon when Lyle let go with the shot. The overunit slumped forward in the top hatch of the transport, her hands sprawled on the gray steel roof. Then the back door sprang open. Six mechs poured out, looking for targets. The resistance opened up on them, felling three within the first seconds of the confrontation. The four remaining mechs scattered to the sides of the gully for cover while the transport tried to move forward for more cover.

Tank and Burgess thundered down the hill toward the gully, firing rapidly at the free runners. Lyle took a few choice shots at the transport but failed to hit the driver. It was a firestorm of pulse rifles from both sides until the freestanding mechs were no longer a threat. Jon made a run for the transport, approaching from behind and taking a shot at its driver. He hit his mark well, severing the head of the mech. It tumbled down the ramp of the transport and came to a stop at Jon's feet.

He looked behind him. The smoke of the battle obscured his field of view of the others on the team. They came toward him in a moment, letting him breathe a sigh of relief that they had made it through the first test of their mission. He turned toward the transport once more and stepped inside it. He could see the overunit's legs on the raised platform. She had been seated, not standing when Lyle took the shot.

He approached carefully. He reached out for the overunit's leg to begin pulling her from the command chair. The body slipped forward easily. He caught the weight of it in his arms and eased the mass to the floor of the transport. There was blood, a lot of it. Lyle's shot had been good, but he realized it had not been final when the overunit moved in a fit of pain. Her hand went to her sidearm, and she brought forth her blaster faster than Power could conceive. She pressed the barrel to his head.

He froze, unsure of his next move. Even though the overunit was clearly in shock, he could see the determination in her eyes to kill him. Air came him short, measured intake for him as he eyed both the barrel of the blaster and the intent of the overunit.

"Take it easy," Power said, removing his hands from her.

He moved back from her, putting some distance between the weapon and his head. The overunit struggled to sit up, pulling at the suspended command chair. All the while, she kept the blaster pointed accurately at Power.

Her movements were awkward, bloodied hands making it difficult to grip the metal of the chair. She slipped once, but Power did not take advantage of it. He kept his distance, watching carefully. His own weapon remained holstered. The situation was getting complicated. The overunit would eventually die from her wound. However, she could conceivably kill him before she lost her own life.

She pulled her way to the front of the transport, coughing and sputtering blood from her mouth. She looked young to Power, no more than twenty or so. Her eyes, though, looked hardened and old.

"I can help you," he said.

Her eyes fluttered momentarily, fighting to keep focus on him. Even in the dim light of the lights in the transport, he could see the blood pouring from the wound in her chest against the dark of her Dread uniform. Red bubbled against her lips, gurgling sounds emanating from her as she struggled in her last moments. She looked to the left, saw the communications panel. He knew here intentions.

"Don't," he warned.

Still, she moved toward the panel. His hand moved slowly to his weapon.

"Don't!" he said more sternly, his hand on the butt of his blaster.

She raised her hand to the panel. It was so close to the comm button. Her fingers just grazed it when her head was shattered by a shot from the back of the transport. It flopped lifelessly against the panel with a dull thudding sound, falling dead with the rest of her body in a second. Blood spewed on to the console in rivulets, dripping down to the floor of the transport when gravity finally took over its mass. Power felt as though it had pierced his own body before it got to hers. He instinctively dropped to the floor for cover, unable to find the little bit of air he had enjoyed just moments before the scene.

He looked to the back of the transport, where he knew the shot had originated. Lyle stood there, rifle in a raised position, the sight trained on the body of the overunit. Jon looked to the sniper, desperately seeking some sort of remorse for the act. All he found was a cold, icy stare and a satisfaction in the finality of the confrontation. Lyle had found his mark with a second shot of deadly accuracy.

Lyle lowered the rifle. He gave a momentary glance to Power, then turned toward Burgess, who stood a few feet away from the scene.

"Clear the body, Burgess," he ordered.

Burgess moved forward, dutifully, bypassing Power who lay on the floor of the transport. The hulking point man grabbed the legs of the overunit and began dragging her body out of the transport. A bloody trail followed the drag of her torso toward the rear exit of the transport.

Lyle did not move from his position. He simply slung his rifle and waited for Power to come out of the transport.

When the two men were close enough to talk, Lyle said, "She would have alerted them."

Power found his voice after a moment. "I know," he said simply, watching as Burgess cleared the body from the transport. He felt a swirling in his head as one emotion clashed with another.

Blalock hung back, as if expecting Power to issue a command. Power, though, was at a loss to consume the events that had just taken place. He saw the blood, saw the human carnage.

Lyle motioned to Kasich and Scout. "Let's get ready to roll."

Kasich dutifully complied, followed by Scout. As Scout passed by Power, he said, "Captain?"

More than just a moment passed between Power and his sergeant. Baker was no stranger to the credo of Power's team that no human being be harmed in the war against Dread. They exchanged a lingering glance. The sergeant was looking for guidance from his commanding officer.

"Get the transport ready," was all Power could muster.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**Around The Corner**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

-------------

"They're aboard the transport and on the way," Tobias said. She showed no relief, no emotion at having passed the first hurdle of the mission. She simply reported the fact as though noting the state of the weather.

Jennifer leaned back in her chair, feeling suddenly tired and sore. She rested her head against the back of the second command chair, taking half a yawn that seemed to help her weariness. She looked at Tobias. The probe was sticking grossly out of the doctor's head, a shoot like a branch of a tree from the stump, protruding from a human skull. A hair-thin wire connected the probe to the computer, a microscopic fiber that spelled the line between life and death should the connection be cut.

Jennifer's eyes strayed to the console that emitted a constant read out of the doctor's vital signs. They were steadier than they had been, almost as if Tobias was becoming comfortable with a familiar environment – as if she had gone home and knew where she was. Still, there were underlying readings that were nearly off the scale. Cerebral activity was pushing envelope of human tolerance. That was the fault of the interface. Jennifer was sure her earliest mentor was consciously working to maintain the link so that the mission could continue. From what she could infer from her knowledge of the link, the battle was as intense as anything their team in the field would endure in the coming hours.

Pilot's own body felt tired. It was drugged, she knew, to mask the pain she should have felt. Instead, nerves had been duped by methylendorphine into believing tissue had not been damaged, that Blastarr had not gotten a direct hit on the delicate human form. She barely remembered the impact, but she did remember how much it hurt only moments later. More clear was the memory of the machine's intent to fire again. She had been hit by machine fire before many times, had even endured direct shots from Blastarr and Soaron in close combat. Those times, though, had enjoyed the luxury of her suit, a virtual shield against such attacks. Never before had she been assaulted directly on her flesh by one of Dread's super machines. The pain had been more awesome than she could ever have imagined.

She watched the dips and spikes of Tobias' heart making a pathway on the monitor. While the rhythm was normal, the frequency of it was not. The heart was not working harder, just faster. For all of Dread's dreams of creating a hybrid existence between the human body and the machine world, nature managed to resound it tolerances to the marriage. The body, it seemed, suffered the cheaper end of the deal.

"No alerts have been issued in Volcania. They got the overunit in time," Tobias said.

Chase nodded. "Chalk one up for the good guys," she said, scratching at the edge of the cast on her wrist. It had begun itching over an hour ago, and it seemed to be intensifying.

The patrol bugs were busy moving around the various sectors of the area. Tobias remained at the panel to monitor troop movements. One of the bugs turned toward the panel again. Jennifer warned of the movement.

"I want to try something," Tobias announced. "Don't switch to passive with this bug."

"What?"

"If we can't convince the bugs that I'm allowed to be here, we'll be dodging them the entire way inside the system. I need them to realize I'm a part of the program."

Jennifer was uncomfortable with the idea. "If they realize you're infiltrating, they'll alert Overmind."

"I know," Tobias said resolutely. "So, let's see what they know and don't know."

The bug approached. Jennifer wanted in the worst way to go to passive mode, to do what she and Tobias knew worked, but the doctor had issued an order. The reasoning was sound. If they did not have the ability to move freely in the system, they would be hounded and hampered by the patrols throughout the mission, losing valuable time in getting Volcania's secondary systems to do what was needed.

The sentry tapped its way down the hall. It moved faster when it spied Tobias standing there in the virtual world. Its tiny legs sprinted forward until it came upon the doctor. It stopped abruptly and immediately issued its tentacles to inspect the intruder in the computer system it was designed to protect. The virtual Tobias reached a hand for it, inviting it to step forth and climb in to her hand. It accepted the offer, climbing with purpose up her arm. The tentacles were wild with activity, feeling every surface available.

The real Tobias grimaced at the act, still not used to the sensation of the events in the virtual world. One of the tentacles pushed in to her ear. Her jaw clenched tightly, and she held her breath against the assault. The tentacle withdrew seconds later, finding more surfaces to probe. It felt over her closed eyelids, through her hair, and down her robes. It paused a moment, as though considering its findings. Then it crawled to the wall and skittered to the floor and resumed its patrol.

Chase watched the entire exchange with awe. Tobias straightened in her chair, and the act was emulated in the virtual world as the image on the screen adjusted with her head movement.

"Did I ever mention I hate bugs?" Tobias asked. "Doesn't matter if they're virtual or real. I hate them."

"They seem to like you," Chase offered lightly.

"Something good comes of everything, I suppose."

The doctor continued down the hall. The bugs gave no notice of her movement, assuming she was allowed to be in their territory. She moved forward with Pilot's guidance through the matrix of passages until they came to the door leading into Volcania's main secondary system. Again, they were faced with choosing the proper symbol from the library to open the door.

"Here we go," Tobias said, selecting the same symbol they had used on the first door. "If it works on this door, we have a passkey to the entire system."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then we're not as good as we thought we were, and Dread is not as dumb as he looks."

Tobias moved the symbol over the door's kiosk and inserted it into the port. The door blinked three time in quick succession and opened. Beyond it was a quiet control room with control panels banked in a semicircle. The room was subdued, dark in the corners and silent. Tobias smiled and gave a small chuckle at the feat. She stepped inside the room and closed the door behind her. She looked around.

"Just like I left it," she said with an air of satisfaction.

Jennifer took it all in, marveling at the potential power of the room. "Wow," was all she could say. The room gave them access to every secondary system in the fortress.

"Contact your captain and tell him we're in position."

Jennifer complied with the order. "Pilot to Captain Power. We're in position. What's your ETA to the target?"

The comm link crackled a bit. "Power to Pilot. We're two minutes out. How's our doorway looking?"

Tobias moved to one of the control panels and examined its readings. "Ask, seek and knock, Captain. I'm ready to do my part. How about you?"

"We're ready, Doctor. Stand by."

Tobias checked the readouts for troop movements.

"Uh-oh," she said after reading one particular report.

"What?" Jennifer asked, concerned.

"They found what's left of Blastarr. It's being transported back to Volcania."

"It's still in pieces, right?"

"For the moment, but regeneration time can be sped up at Volcania. Blastarr can be operational in less than thirty minutes if they give it enough juice."

She opened a link to Power herself this time. "Tobias to Captain Power. Be advised – Blastarr is on the front doorstep and is going to be reassembled in less than thirty. You may be in for more resistance than we anticipated."

There was a pause on the link. "We copy that, Doctor. What about Soaron?"

Tobias checked the panel, looking for Soaron's location. "Still flying patrol, on a set pattern. If it doesn't deviate, you're good to go on your run."

"Here's hoping. We're at the door."

"Stand by." Tobias keyed commands into the panel. Chase watched the panel and saw Tobias isolate door one-zero-four. The doctor's hands were quick with the commands. The door showed compliance with her command.

"That's it!" Power said excitedly over the comm. "We're going in."

"We copy," Jennifer said.

Tobias studied more of the controls at her disposal. "Let me know when you reach the inner blast door. I don't want to open a bottle of wine before its time."

"We're on our way. Thirty seconds," Power said.

Tobias pulled up the second blast door. She keyed in the command and waited for Power's acknowledgement of their arrival. When he gave it, she initiated the open command and got a positive response. Green points appeared on the screen. Tobias was tracking their movements with Volcania's secondary sensors.

"Go right down that corridor. There should be a ladder there," she said.

"Got it," Power said a few moments later. "Now what?"

"Up, up and away, Captain. Might I suggest you get out of that shiny suit of yours for the climb?"

Tobias keyed another command. Surveillance camera images projected on several screens adjacent to the console. Chase saw Power nod at the suggestion as he looked up the ladder.

"I was just thinking that," he said, not thrilled at what lay ahead of them to get to their intended target. "Let's power down," he said to his team.

They did as they were told, changing back to unprotected forms. Only then did it occur to Jennifer that the rest of the infiltration team was that vulnerable during the mission. Until everyone reached the top, there would be no opportunity to suit up again in the event of detection. They would all be subject to direct fire from mech weapons.

Power took the lead on the ladder, starting his climb. The others followed, putting a bit of distance between bodies on the rungs. The access tube was narrow, but they were able to navigate it even with loaded backpacks on Haven's fighters.

Tobias switched the views as they ascended, following them up the ladder in increments. She zoomed in on Power's face at one point. It was shiny with perspiration from his efforts.

"You didn't mention it was going to be this hot in here, Doctor," he said with exertion.

"You're skirting the generators for Volcania. Believe me, you don't want to be outside that tube right now," Tobias advised.

Jennifer saw Hawk climbing just below Power. He stopped a moment and wiped at his brow.

"I don't want to rub it in," the major said, "but I could have flown up this damned thing in thirty seconds flat."

"You need the exercise," Power said, a smile on his face. "How much farther, Doctor? I can't even see the top of this thing."

"You're not going to the top," Tobias said. "In twenty meters, you'll see a hatch to the side. That's going to put you in a storage area. From there, you can turn on your suits again and head for the computer core."

"Any surprises waiting for us in there?" Power asked, his breath quick with exertion.

Tobias checked the panel. "I'm not showing anyone in there right now. It's food storage, so unless someone gets hungry, you should have it all to yourself."

"Copy that," Power said.

The comm went silent as the journey continued. The team made its way up the ladder until they reached the access hatch. The storage area remained empty. Tobias unlocked the hatch door and waited for Power to open the latch. The view on the surveillance cameras switched to the inside of the food locker. The view was startling to Jennifer. It was all too familiar. Red lights, dark shadows – she suddenly remembered stepping into that very room when she was younger. It was eerie to view the place she had been raised. Its metal walls held no warmth. They were just like the empire of Volcania, stark and strong against whoever would dare challenge its existence.

The hatch door opened. Power passed through the port and jumped down to the floor. He turned to help Hawk. Together, they waited as each team member passed their packs and supplies through the hole then jumped into the storage room. Their breath was a fog in the air. Jennifer thought that it was probably a welcomed sensation. Their faces were shiny. Dark clothing had turned even darker in patches where sweat bled through.

Hawk leaned his head back, lavishing in the cold air pushing down on them. "That's better," he said.

Power gave them no time to rest. "We'll use this as a staging area. Let's get the gear out."

Tobias keyed the comm link again. "Captain, I recommend you hold off on your suit routine until you're ready to move. I'm going to try to keep the sensors calm when you turn them on, but I can't make any guarantees."

"Understood," Power said. "How's the hallway?"

Tobias checked the floorplan. "It's good for the moment. You should have a clear run at the core until the blast door. Minimal resistance, if any. Once you get there, though, you're going to have to work fast. That door is tied to the primary systems. Once it's opened without authorization, you're going to have hell's minions raining down on you."

Lyle walked over to one of the food crates and opened it. He peered inside, finding fresh produce. Jennifer remembered that hydroponics was used in the fortress. She found it amusing as she watched Lyle pick an apple from the crate and bite into it.

Blalock looked at him disapprovingly.

Lyle shrugged. "Hey, this could be the last chance I have to eat, Lieutenant. Put it on Dread's tab."

Blalock shook his head and walked away from the pallet. Lyle waited until no one was watching and put another apple in his pocket. Then he closed the lid to the crate.

Kasich was standing near Scout. He helped her with her pack. Jennifer sensed more than just camaraderie between them. She had known Robert a long time, and in all that time, she had never seen him exhibit such care with another person. It was more tenderness than anything else. Kasich seemed to return the affection, smiling at him and murmuring something so quiet that it could not be heard over the surveillance system. He tightened the straps on her backpack, making sure it was secure against her back.

Burgess and Tank stood by, quietly waiting their turn to go first through the door into the hall. They would be leading the charge. Tank would take the foremost lead, his armor able to withstand heavy blasts. Burgess would be the second act, cutting down anything that Tank missed.

Hawk stood alone, impatient as ever to get moving. His hands were shoved in his pockets. He shuffled a toe against the edge of a pallet, testing its integrity. Jennifer had never noticed how his hair was slowly disappearing atop his head. In truth, he had always towered over her in height. She had never had quite the vantage that she was enjoying now through the surveillance system. The red hue from the storage room's lights reflected off his dome, giving it a glowing effect.

"Everyone ready?" Power called out quietly.

They all nodded in affirmation.

"All right, let's do this. You all have your assignments. Let's do our job and go home." He keyed his comm, unaware that Tobias was watching their every move on video. "Power to Tobias, we're ready, Doctor."

Tobias checked the hallway again for anyone approaching and saw that it was still clear. "Go ahead and suit up, Captain. I'll keep the door closed until you're done. It will help mask the sound a bit."

"Understood."

He straightened and pulled his fist to the badge on his chest. The surveillance video went white as the suits energized. When the cameras recovered, the members of Power's team stood in armor, ready to go.

"Opening the door," Tobias announced. She keyed the command. The door slid to the right and disappeared into the wall.

Tank took the lead, followed by Burgess. Tobias switched views in the surveillance system again in order to follow them through the maze of halls toward the blast door to the computer core. They encountered no resistance at all. Most of Dread's available forces were assigned to the perimeter of the fort. It was unlikely even Overmind could have anticipated the level of infiltration accomplished thus far by Power's team.

When they came to the corner just before the blast door, Tobias told them to wait. Two sentries stood guard at the door, weapons at the ready for anything that might threaten their lord's prized possession. Power motioned Scout forward to the corner. Baker saw the obstacle and nodded. He straightened and transformed himself into a mech unit. The technique was good for short periods of time until the mechs made any attempts to communicate with the imposter. By then, Scout was usually ready to act to neutralize the threat.

He marched forward with the same stiff gait as any other mech in Dread's arsenal. He marched between them and stopped. He turned quickly and grabbed their heads, slamming them together like two coconuts. Tank and Burgess rushed forward to finish the job, using the butts of rifles to separate the heads from the bodies of the mechs. The whole transaction had taken less than fifteen seconds by Jon's count.

Power moved in to the view of the camera. He keyed his link again. "Doctor, we're ready for the door."

"Stand by," she said. "This may not be as easy as the rest."

Tobias closed the comm link and turned to Jennifer. "We have a problem," she said, somber.

Jennifer was not prepared for the comment. Her heart had a sinking feeling. For Tobias to admit something was a problem meant that it was most likely just that. "What's wrong?"

"That door," Tobias said, pointing at the floor's schematic, "is controlled by the primary systems. If I even look at its protocols, they're going to know we're in there. If that happens, we'll have mechs swarming that floor."

Jennifer ran through options in her mind. "Scout can open it," she said, an idea dawning in her thoughts. "He can run a bypass on the lock."

"How?"

"The control panel is there. He can hardwire it to open."

"Open, sure," Tobias argued, "but what about closing it behind them? If that door is opened for a prolonged period of time, it's going to set off a string of alarms."

While she did not like the fact that Tobias was right, there were few options available to get them inside the core. "I know," she said, "but I don't have any other ideas. If they blast the door open, the result will be the same."

Tobias chewed on the options, her face serious and hard. "I should have anticipated this," she scolded herself.

Jennifer shrugged off the criticism. "Not everything can be a walk in the park on this trip."

Tobias returned to the console in the virtual control room. She asked the console for a report on Dread's progress. The computer put forth a text report of Lord Dread's conversion process. She read it and did not look happy about its contents.

"We're running out of time," Tobias said. "Dread's already on ice." She keyed the comm again. "Tobias to Power, we have a problem."

"There's a lot of that going around, lately," he said. "What is it, Doctor?"

"Overmind has begun the transfer process. So, you're going to have to push up the timetable. Unfortunately, I can't get that door open. Sergeant Baker is going to have to run a manual bypass to get it open."

Power looked disappointed but did not voice his dissatisfaction. He turned to Scout. "Can you do it?"

Scout stepped forward, eager. "Put me in, coach."

Power slapped him on the back, giving the sergeant the green light to start working on the door.

"I can tell you," Tobias said, "that the room beyond that has at least twenty troopers guarding it. You'll have to go in guns blazing the minute that door opens."

Burgess smiled. "That would be my job."

"Get in line, my friend," Tank said in kind, smiling at the notion of taking choice shots at troopers.

"The main core is at the end of the corridor," Tobias said. "The inner door should not be locked down, but count on more troopers beyond that."

Scout ripped down the panel to the door's security and pulled out his tool kit. He began running a bypass on the switch, pulling down wires and stripping them of insulation. Kasich moved up to help him, holding wires so they could be cross-connected by Scout.

Tobias checked the console controls again. "Let's see what trouble we can cause once they get that door open," she said to Jennifer.

Jennifer waited patiently for Tobias to run through their list of options. "Nothing major, but certainly a lot of annoying things."

Tobias keyed at the virtual console. She abruptly turned and headed for the door of the control room.

"Doctor Tobias?" Jennifer asked in alarm.

Tobias stopped just short of the door. She stood before it, as though as soldier about to storm a stronghold. Her hand pushed forth and laid on the surface of the virtual door, as though feeling its heat, its very existence.

"The work here is done," she said, a smile creeping into the right corner of her mouth. "It's time to give my regards to Lyman personally."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Belly of the Whale**

Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.

-------------

As soon as Scout and Kasich had opened the door, the firestorm began. Tank was the first to take a hit, though it knocked him back only slightly before he returned fire. Burgess joined him in firing back at the troopers. Power heard the clatter of mechs as they broke apart with shots from Tank and Burgess. Scout and Kasich took cover behind an abutment to the left, taking a few shots at targets when there was a lull in the rate of fire from the mechs.

Hawk stood back with Power, making sure there was no attack from the rear. The captain knew full well that his second-in-command wanted nothing more than to be up in the front, taking choice shots at the mechs, but the chain of command and the structure of their mission was set. Tank and Burgess were clearing the mechs inside rather quickly. Still, enemy shots hit dangerously close, pinging off the walls in a shower of sparks before their energy died off into a missed target.

Tank and Burgess stepped inside the threshold of the interior room as the wall of mechs lessened, continuing to fire at anything that moved. Power knew that might include human beings, overunits who were assigned to the area, but there was nothing to be done about it. If they stood in the way, they would have to be eliminated by whatever means necessary. That included firing on them and probably killing them.

Suddenly, there was silence. The mechs in the room were dead, torn apart by blaster fire that eliminated the threat. In the center sat the processing core, a large box the size of troop transport. It would take all the charges they had brought to destroy the unit.

Kasich and Scout removed Sabre from the equipment bag and carefully placed it on the floor. Kasich activated switches on the device. A light on the control panel blinked steadily, indicating that it was in proper working order.

She looked up at the ceiling of the corridor. Removable panels lined the way. She looked to Hawk.

"Major, think you can fly this Easter egg up there and hide it?"

Hawk stepped close, looking down at the Sabre device. "No way I'm going to accidentally set it off, am I?"

"No, sir," Kasich responded. "Just put it up there and put the panel back in place."

"Sounds easy enough," Hawk said. He activated his jet and rose into the air toward the panel, sliding it on top of another panel, creating an opening. He descended again to pick up the device. Again, he carefully rose into the air, placing the Sabre onto the ledge of framework just visible inside the hole.

"Just out of curiosity, Sergeant," Jon said to Kasich, "isn't it a little dangerous to be putting that so close to something that's about to blow up?"

"The Sabre can take quite a beating, sir," Kasich said. "The firecracker we're going to use down here won't even scratch it. We're good to go," she concluded confidently.

Jon watched Hawk complete the task, pulling the ceiling panel back in place. Unless someone went intentionally looking in that area, there was no sign of the box from below in the corridor. Sabre was ready for the using, and all at his discretion. The full impact of the idea hit him at that moment. With the simple push of a detonator button, he could blow a hole in the planet and change the course of human history once again.

Scout and Kasich wasted no time in moving forward to the control panels in the center of the room once Hawk was finished. They ripped off the metal covers to the electronic guts of the core processor and went to work. The myriad of circuits and lights underneath was a dizzying sight. Power could barely fathom how the sergeants knew what to do. It was a maze of wires and fiber optic cables that wound around in a fashion that was chaotic to the untrained eye. Still, they approached it with vigor, believing they could do what they had to do to accomplish the mission. Power was less confident in the job they faced, knowing it was because the science of machine technology was not his gift. His gift was leadership, the ability to command his team. He had learned the art of trust in his own people, and he was not about to forsake all that he had learned.

Kasich got down low and peered inside the panel. "They've been busy, haven't they?"

Scout joined in the view. "Looks like they've been working on their integration since the last time I got a look in one of these things."

"On the bright side," Kasich said, "we can blow it all in one shot. We'll run the secondary bypass and send it through the network on a timer. That should be enough of a delay to get out of here in time. Hand me the charge."

Blalock stepped forward and opened his pack. The egg-shaped charge looked rather benign, but they all knew the power within it. He carefully placed in Kasich's outstretched hand. She cradled it, confidently leading it inside the console. Scout helped her attach it to the key points of the circuitry. They started to back out when Kasich suddenly stopped, as though something had caught her eye. Her body moved forward into the console again.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, her voice rising a bit in disbelief.

Hawk stepped further inside the area. "We don't have time for a sightseeing trip. More mechs will be here soon."

"I'm serious," Kasich protested. "Robert, look."

Scout obliged her, examining the area she was pointing at inside the box. "Captain," he called urgently. "You need to see this."

Power moved forward and got down low to see the object of their attention. A small black box lay buried behind the cables in the fore of the console. "What is it?"

Kasich pulled away some of the cables for a better view. "If my rebel upbringing is correct, you're looking at an engram repository."

It took a moment for Power to connect all the dots of what she was saying. There were lives contained in the pod. It was where the innocents who had been absorbed by the likes of Blastarr and Soaron had been stored for Overmind's pleasure, learning curve and appetite. Power's mind whirled with the thought of what it contained.

"How many?" was all he could muster.

"A million," Scout answered, staring intently at the box. "Maybe more."

Jon felt a weakness at the revelation. In that tiny box were so many lives ripped from the planet, from the very human race. "Can we get it out?"

Kasich was quick to disagree. "Not without Overmind getting an earful. That's the bread and butter of the system, sir. You rip it out, and Overmind's likely to have a meltdown. It's like taking food away from a hungry baby. We could do it if we knew we had the time, maybe substitute something that would satisfy Overmind for the moment until we could get out of here."

Power considered his options. He straighted up and keyed his comm. "Power to Chase. What's the mech movement looking like?"

There was a pause before the corporal answered. "I'm going to have to get back to you on that, Captain." Her voice was strained, stressed. "We're working on it."

Power immediately sensed it, not liking the sensation of shock he felt at her compact answer. "Understood," he said carefully, giving her the benefit of the doubt that she would do her part. "We'll be waiting."

"Copy that," Chase answered quickly, almost tersely. "Pilot out."

Scout gave a curious glance at his captain. It was unlike Pilot to speak with such shortness. From the look on his sergeant's face, Power was sure they both shared the same sense of wariness at her limited answer.

Power stood up and withdrew his blaster again. "Hawk, you, Tank and Burgess set up a staggered front in that hall. We need to give them some time to work on this thing. Until we hear from Pilot and Tobias, we'll need real eyes on what's coming."

Hawk approached Power and pulled him to he side. "Jon," he said in a low tone, "you know we don't have time for this. It's not a part of the mission plan. We need to set those charges and get the hell out of here."

Power's anger snapped forth. "Those are _people_ in there, Hawk," he said vehemently. "We can save them."

"And if we do take the time we need, we may lose everything. We have to go – _now_."

Jon's chest felt tight with the stress of the moment. Hawk had a point, but those were real people stored in that box, real lives that would be killed if they detonated the charges and did not give it a second thought. The concern of collateral damage had been over those who were still walking. No one had taken into consideration the people who lay trapped in the matrix of Dread's network.

He weighed the options. In the end, just a few seconds later, he deemed himself commander of the missions. Commanders were in charge because they were able to make the difficult decisions.

"We're not leaving them," he said resolutely. He turned to Scout. "Get them out of there. We'll watch your back."

He was pleased to see the satisfaction on Scout's face at the chance to detach the engram storage from the main core. The sergeant called to Kasich so they could begin the process.

Hawk uncharacteristically grabbed Jon's arm in protest. "This is a mistake, Jon," he said in a low tone.

"Maybe so," Jon said, though he made sure he did not sound as though he were conceding the argument. "But we'd be wrong if we didn't try. Take point with Tank."

Hawk gave a lingering look, one that said louder than words that he did not agree with the decision. Power gave him that latitude, but he also dismissed the warning. Hawk was a military man. He thought in terms of military strategy and acceptable losses. To Power, though, a million lives in a box were not an acceptable loss. No matter what reasoning Hawk wanted to apply, there were lives in that box. It was bad enough they would probably kill everything living in the vicinity of Volcania. There was no reason Power could fathom to destroy more than was necessary.

Hawk complied with Power's order and took his place down the hall at Tank's side. The captain turned to watch Scout and Kasich's progress. Kasich had already physically crawled into the processing core in an effort to reach the engram storage box. Scout handed her tools when she requested them. It took longer than any of them felt comfortable waiting, but Kasich finally succeeded in detaching the box from the core, redirecting connections so that the link in the lines did not suffer disruption. She carefully backed out of the core's housing, carrying the box in two hands toward her equipment bag. Scout followed behind her, opening the bag and making a space for the engram case. She put it in the bag and pulled out one of the egg-shaped charges.

Scout and Power steered clear of Kasich as she returned to the core with a second charge at a much faster pace than she had used with the engram case. She looked at them curiously.

"It's not going to bite you." Then she smiled. "At least not yet."

She crawled back in to the console, calling for Scout to bring the rest of the charges from the bag. He took his cue from her, bringing the rest of the charges in his arms. She held out a hand behind her for one of them. Scout placed each one in her hand when she requested it. In a few moments, the explosives were in place.

Kasich wiggled out of the core once more and headed for the equipment bag. She withdrew the detonation catalyst for the charges and walked toward core one last time. Power knelt down on one knee and watched as she connected the charges to the black tube. Her hands were careful and steady as she joined the couplers on the charges to the tiny cylinder that would set them all off, blowing Volcania off the map. Each charge lit up in a soft green glow as she connected them.

She got out one last time and inspected her work. "They look pretty when you hook them up. Kind of like a string of Christmas tree lights."

Kasich returned to the bag, rummaging until she found the detonator to the string of bombs. She cradled it in her hand, studying it. She looked sad, as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. Her eyes connected with Power. It rested on all of them, really, he knew.

A rear access door opened. Power could barely react to the surprise of it. Troopers swarmed in at them. Their first volley seemed to be in slow motion. He followed the trail of one shot until it impacted in Kasich's back. She tumbled forward, her eyes wide, her mouth agape. Her body slammed into the floor, skidding forward until the forces of gravity and friction stopped it on the smooth deck plating.

Power drew his weapon and began returning fire, dropping two of the mechs immediately. The rest of the assault team followed suit, finding defensive positions in support abutments and the core's housing. He had a moment to assess their situation. Burgess, Lyle and Tank were taking fire at the other end of the corridor. The team was being sandwiched with nearly an unlimited number of troopers.

Scout tried to make a move to get to Kasich but was immediately pinned back by more fire. Laser volleys zinged back and forth between friend and foe, with no side making any more progress. A stray shot glanced off Jon's suit, stinging but not stopping him. The mechs were going to have to do better than just a glancing shot to take him out of the game. By the same token, half the team lacked the luxury of armor. He realized quickly that they made up for it by simple accuracy in their return fire. Blalock was dropping mechs one after another, as though it were a game. His shots were careful and efficient, more than anyone in the group.

Kasich had recovered enough find cover for herself. She crawled toward the wall and leaned up against a slanted abutment, using the steel frame for cover. She began firing back intermittently, using all her strength just to bring her sidearm to bear against the impending attack. None of her shots hit, but they were enough to cause some of the mechs to halt their forward progress. She held the detonator securely in her other hand, fighting with her very life to protect it.

In the distance down the corridor, Power could see more mechs moving in to finish the job. His team was not going to last long against the waves of intruders. Soon, the mechs would overwhelm them, ending the mission. Dread would finish his task, and the world as they knew it would end.

"Scout!" Power called over the din of the attack.

Scout took only a moment to look toward the captain. "Yes, sir!"

"We need to get these doors closed! If I get you to a panel, can you do it?"

Scout fired off two shots. "No, sir. We have to be at a main junction box," he yelled.

It was not the answer Jon wanted to hear. The only way they would survive was to cut off mech access to their position.

"Power to Pilot!"

There was a pause before Chase answered. "Pilot, here."

Power took another three shots. "We need these doors closed! Where's Tobias?"

"We need a few minutes, Captain."

"We don't have a few minutes! We already have one casualty!"

Tobias' voice broke into the conversation. "Who's down?"

"One of your own, Doctor. We need these doors closed, now!"

There was a response, but it was drowned out by mech shots pinging into the steel of the fortress, disturbingly close to Power's head. He called for a repeat of the response. Chase's voice sounded in his ears.

"Captain, Doctor Tobias is going to get the doors closed. We need time."

"Make it quick!" Power snapped, firing off another shot, dismantling a mech's head from its body. The body clanked loudly on the floor. "Power, out!"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Blast From The Past**

Tobias was walking headlong out of the virtual control room, quietly ignoring Jennifer's pleas to stop. She was a woman on a mission to get as close to Lyman Taggart as possible before there was no opportunity left to do so.

"Doctor Tobias, you have to stop," Jennifer said sharply.

"No, I don't, young one," Tobias replied, her eyes glassy and unseeing of the real world. "And if you want to see your friends alive and well again, you won't try to stop me."

"This isn't about your personal feelings toward Dread! People will die if you don't stop!"

Tobias gave a crooked, sad smile. "They're already dead where they stand. They're trapped in a giant coffin. Look for yourself."

The monitor in front of Chase lit up with a map of moving dots. Several blue dots represented the rebel team. The red dots, which numbered in the hundreds, showed the force bearing down on the team's position. They were outgunned and outnumbered.

"We don't have much time, Jennifer," Tobias said. "Your captain knew this might be a one-way trip, but I'm not ready to accept that yet. The only way they're going to make it out of there, especially with wounded, is if we pave the road for them. I've done all I can do from the control room. Now's the time to make the move for Taggart."

She sighed thoughtfully and added, "And I wouldn't mind putting a dent or two in Overmind while I was at it."

Jennifer could see the battle raging in the hall. She saw Kasich barely able to move, yet still firing at the approaching mechs. The flurry of weapons fire lit up the video screen in bright flashes that sometimes obliterated the scene. Indeed, there was not much time.

"Then we better get moving," Jennifer said in consent.

Tobias looked around her in the virtual world, taking note of the twelve patrol bugs that joined her in the hall.

"Come on, my little ones, let's go for a walk," she said, stepping forward. The bugs followed like puppies, eagerly moving with Tobias, carefully avoiding her simulated feet.

It was then that Jennifer realized that Tobias no longer possessed the mechanical leg in the computerized realm. She walked with whole legs. Chase imagined that the skull prosthetic was probably gone, too. After all, the virtual world was in Tobias' control, and she could be whatever she wanted in it. Her avatar was of her choosing, and she chose to be the way she once was.

Tobias stopped at a panel on the wall, looking for direction. The bugs stopped, too, crowding around and running up the wall to be near the panel. One crawled across the screen. Tobias gently pushed it out of the way.

"Well," the doctor said, "looks like we have to go to the next level. This should be interesting. I'm sure Overmind will be upset."

"It might shut down the system if it detects you."

"Unlikely. If the system is shut down, Taggart's brain is dead tissue, and Overmind will have no master. Its programming was designed to protect Taggart at all costs. It would just as soon allow me in and deal with the consequences than to abort the transfer."

"You always told me assumptions were dangerous."

"This isn't an assumption. I know what Overmind will do because I helped build the system Taggart is using to transfer himself."

Jennifer was dumbstruck with the shock of Tobias' revelation. "What?"

Tobias put the link on standby. She turned to Jennifer, blinking her eyes as she focused back on the real world's visage. "Add it to the list of sins, my dear. There are a lot more where that one came from, and some day, you'll find them all. Then, you'll have all the answers to the past you want."

"But you didn't know what you were designing, right?"

"Of course I did. Hell, I even entertained the thought of crossing over, myself, for a time. My intentions, though, were not like Lyman's. He wanted to rule the world. I just wanted to think faster."

Jennifer could not believe it. She knew Tobias had been deeply involved in the development of technology in Dread's empire, but she had no idea how integral her mentor had been in the implementation of ideas.

"We'll talk about this later," Tobias said. "Right now, we have to get those folks out of that hallway." Tobias turned to the console and reinitiated the virtual control.

The patrol bugs milled around her, waiting for their new friend to make a move. Once Tobias stepped forward, the bugs happily followed, their legs tittering off the false steel floors and echoing even in the console's speakers. One of them crawled up Tobias' back and settled low on the back of her shoulder for the ride. She did not shrug it off, instead letting it have its way.

She came to a new door in the hall, one that was modern and more Volcania-like in appearance. The bugs rattled ahead, opening the door in a welcoming gesture for their new friend.

"Hmmm," Tobias mused. "An all-access pass with these little guys. This could get fun."

Jennifer checked on the status of the battle raging in the hall. Power and the team were still in the firefight of their lives, doing their best to hang on until something could be done to get them out of their situation.

"We need to hurry," she informed Tobias. "I don't think they'll be able to hang on much longer."

"We're almost there," Tobias said calmly as she made her way down a darkened corridor.

"Almost where?"

"The belly of the whale," the doctor answered.

And they were. The hallway opened up into a large chamber that seemed impossibly high. In the center sat Overmind, round and pulsating with a orange-tinted light. A thick fog surrounded it, as though the machine were deep in thought. The mechanical gyrators circled it rhythmically, almost caressing its shell.

Tobias stood captivated, looking up at the enormous sphere.

"I don't remember Overmind being so large," Jennifer commented, nearly whispering, a habit from another lifetime when she was in the Dread Youth and was once ordered to appear before Dread and Overmind.

"It's not," Tobias said, full-voiced. "That's its ego you're seeing. Overmind thinks it's larger than life, and in this world, it makes sure that all the beings and machines around it know who's boss."

Jennifer viewed the scene on the monitor. She could see no other doors, no other way out of the room. Tobias had come in through the only entrance.

"I don't see Dread," the corporal said.

"Oh, he's here," Tobias said confidently. "He's just in the middle of being grown, that's all." She stared intently at Overmind's seething form.

It suddenly dawned on Jennifer what Tobias meant, and it was shocking and bewildering all at the same time. "He's incubating."

"This certainly would answer the question about the chicken and the egg, wouldn't it?"

"So what happens when Dread . . . hatches? Does Overmind go away?"

"Well, there's certainly not room enough for the two of them in here, but I'm betting Lyman has other plans. Even if he completes his transfer, he'll still need a lesser computer to do the mundane things. I suspect those tasks will be beneath Lyman, and he'll count on Overmind to do business as usual."

"How do we get in, or how does Dread get out?"

"The bell seems to be out of order. Perhaps we should knock three times."

Jennifer was puzzled. "We should do what?"

Tobias dismissed the question. "Nevermind," she said. "Let's see what we can see around Overmind's toes."

She walked forward. The patrol bugs tapped ahead, merrily presenting their guest to Overmind. There was a chattering sound as they communicated their find to the machine in charge. While they were busy doing that, Tobias walked the foundation of Overmind's base, her body occasionally becoming enveloped in the mist that surrounded it. She ran her hand along the smooth metal of the base, stopping when she felt an abnormality and examining it. She continued the process amid the chatter of the patrol bugs to Overmind. If the master machine was paying attention, it was not showing any sign of alarm at an intruder.

Tobias stopped abruptly, her hand pressed firmly against the metal base. She looked back at the bugs, which were still desperately trying to communicate with Overmind. Their information seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

"Found it," Tobias announced.

"Found what?"

"The door to destiny, my dear child."

Tobias pushed against the metal with both hands. A rectangular seam of light appeared, silhouetting Tobias as the glow grew. Tobias squinted in the real world against the simulated light, her brain convincing her optical nerve of the sights of the virtual landscape.

Jennifer glanced at the screen monitoring Tobias' vital signs. All levels had increased – blood pressure, heart rate, and respiration. It was possible that it was all from the anticipation of the moment, but Jennifer silently worried that the strain of the connection with Dread's virtual world was becoming too much for an aging human body. Tobias' brain believed that what happened in the cyber world was no different had it happened in the real world. It was as real as could be to her gray matter. So, too, would any damage that occurred inside the artificial world.

Jennifer had seen it before. Dread used the concept time and time again to torture his victims in order to extract information. She saw it firsthand with one of the Sandtown captives, Galen. Dread tortured the man by mind alone until a secret was revealed that led to the deaths of so many. Others were digitized in brutal fashion for Overmind's consumption.

Tobias pushed harder on the doorway until it vanished into the bright light. She stood there, adjusting to the new scene. The world beyond the door was filled with more fog, swirling against a moderate wind that whipped the mist into tiny vortexes. Tobias looked up, the video screen accommodating her wish and showing the internal environment that was Overmind. Dark clouds roiled overhead. Flashes of lighting streaked wildly across a phantom sky. The tempo of the discharges was manic, with no rhyme or reason.

The doctor drank it all in with a look of curiosity that was tinged with awe. "Oh my," she said, looking up at the chaos. "We are a bit busy, aren't we?"

She moved forward in the mist, stepping into the unknown. She walked in a straight path, at times blinded by the mist until she came to a clearing. There was something there, but its details were not discernable until she got closer. It was a human form, curled in a fetal position. Black clothing distinguished the figure from the blowing white mist.

Tobias approached carefully. She stood over the body, looking down at it with disgust.

"Get up, Lyman," she groused.

Still the figure did not move.

"Get up," she said again, this time more forcefully.

The figure stirred and turned over onto his back. Lyman Taggart lay there, blinking as though awakening from a long sleep. His skullcap was gone. Like Tobias, he existed in the virtual world with no prosthetics. His body was reborn, free from injury and artificial devices. When he realized who was standing over him, he sprang to his feet and stepped away quickly.

He took a moment to take in the woman before him. "Helene," he said with disgust. "I should have known."

Tobias rolled her eyes, dismissing his drama. "Oh, please. You had no clue. I was a piece of garbage the last time you thought about me."

Taggart was seething with anger. "What do you want?"

"Neither you nor I have the time for a complete list, but I'll settle for Overmind powering down some mechs for me."

Taggart was incredulous. "And if I don't?"

"If you don't," Tobias said in a sugary voice, "I can unleash some bugs on you that aren't going to appreciate the fact that you're in here."

Taggart gave a smile that dripped irony. "Is that all?"

She circled Taggart with slow steps. He remained still.

"I would imagine that old cue ball has its hands full trying to make you a microchip and controlling a couple thousand mechs all at once. It's like juggling kittens, if you ask me. No time to talk to some little bugs who are prattling on about an old friend like me showing up after five years."

She faced him squarely again. "You, on the other hand, are a foreigner here. You're a parasite they're designed to eat. And believe me, they do seem hungry today."

The bug that had hitched a ride to the chamber moved over the top of Tobias' shoulder for a look at Dread. One of its legs began nervously tapping on her cloak, as if to notify her there was a problem. She glanced at it out of the corner of her eye and smiled.

"Starving, actually," she added.

Taggart tried to look nonplussed. "You forget where you are, Helene. This is _my_ world now, not yours."

"It's not yours yet, Lyman. You're nothing but an unwelcome visitor."

The bug's leg tapped faster, more urgently.

"If that is what you choose to believe," Taggart replied. He stepped forward and reached to touch the bug, stroking its back gently as if it were a pet. He smiled at it with admiration. "You've been gone too long to know everything here is under my command."

"Really? Why don't you try giving Overmind a yodel. I'll bet you don't get a reply."

Jennifer watched the scene play out on the screens, suddenly bothered by twinges of pain that told her the methylendorphin was losing its power. The pain was increasing by the second, but she held it in, not wanting to disturb the confrontation between Tobias and Taggart. There was no time to interrupt them. Whatever the doctor was doing was going to have to happen fast if there was to be a chance of getting Jon and his team out alive. All she could do was watch and hope that Tobias would succeed.

"Why don't you leave, Helene? You can't win here. I will complete the transfer, and I will rule this world in the name of the machine. There's nothing you can do to stop me," Taggart said in a cajoling voice.

She smiled contritely. "Nice offer, but I know how this works, remember? I built this place. I know what happens if I walk out that doorway."

"You have my word nothing will happen to you."

Her eyebrows rose in amusement, and she let loose with a chuckle. "I think I'll take a big pass on that offer. Your word hasn't meant a damn in years."

Jennifer felt a sense of panic. "What happens if you walk out the door?" she asked Tobias quietly, masking the pain she felt.

"I know," Tobias said in reply to both worlds, "that if either one of us walks out that door before the transfer is complete, Overmind shuts down, severing all connections and most likely killing both of us. By the time it figures out its mistake, it'll be too late."

"You don't have the nerve, Helene. You never did, and I doubt you have it now."

"And I doubt you know what's going on inside your own fortress. Oh, that's right," she said mockingly, "you and Overmind haven't exactly been gabbing during all this. In fact, you're very much alone in here, aren't you? Cold, afraid here in this place."

"Afraid?" he laughed. "Hardly. I'm only paying my penance for being human. Soon, I will have paid my debt and I will be stronger than you could possibly imagine. The process is almost complete. You're too late."

"Not if I make sure Overmind pours what's left of your brain down the same garbage chute you threw me down all those years ago. Not if you're lunch to these little guys." She took a turn at stroking the bug's back.

Jennifer pushed down the now excruciating pain in her body. "Doctor Tobias," she breathed. "What are you doing?"

Tobias ignored the question. "It ends here, Lyman. You're done hurting people. Like you, I have a penance to pay for the past. And like you, it is here I pay the price."

Jennifer heard footfalls in the hallway. Holcomb. It had to be Holcomb. She turned just in time to see a pressure door close over and lock. Holcomb's face appeared in the tiny window. He pounded on it, calling to Tobias repeatedly, ordering the door to be opened. Jennifer reached for the controls on the panel to open the door, but the computer rejected the command. Tobias had locked it.

Chase was losing control over the pain. She slumped down in the chair, trying to ease the pressure on her torso. It did little to help the explosions erupting with each heartbeat.

Taggart eyed Tobias suspiciously. "You wouldn't dare."

"And why wouldn't I? Do you think I'm afraid to die? I've done that already, Lyman. I know what awaits me. To tell you the truth, it's really not that bad. Very quiet, actually. Peaceful. I'm ready to go there again."

"That can be arranged," Taggart sneered slyly. "Just say the word."

Tobias grinned. "Let's play hide and seek, Lyman. I'm it."

With that, she dashed out of his sight and into the mist. All Jennifer could see was waves of the fog as it passed through Tobias' range of vision. Her own vision blurred slightly as she battled against the sudden weakness that enveloped her. It owned her, like a master. She could barely keep her eyes open to watch the transactions on the screen. Tobias moved quickly, calling out to Dread as she swam through the mist.

"Lyman," Tobias called, "I know where I am. Do you?"

There was no reply.

Tobias ran through the mist with purpose, as though she had a sense of exactly where she was going. Jennifer's vision, though hazy with ache, was clear enough to see Tobias find the doorway to Overmind's incubator. Its border glowed with electrical impulses that fluctuated around its perimeter. Tobias eyed it, studying it.

Taggart's frantic footsteps echoed off the chamber walls. Tobias turned to face him. He stopped short of tackling her, not wanting to risk her accidentally falling through the portal.

"Helene!" he yelled, panicked. "Don't you _dare_," he warned, pointing a menacing finger at her.

"Or what, Lyman? I told you, it ends here."

Jennifer reached out for Tobias, but was so weak that the doctor was able to push her hand away much too easily. The pilot's heart pounded hard, thundering in her ears. Her entire body was on fire, aching fiercely and uncontrollably. She looked back toward the pressure door, willing Holcomb to break through it at any moment.

"Ready? Let's count it down. Three."

Taggart took a step toward her. "Helene," he said, threateningly. "Think of what you're doing. We can rule this world together." He held out his hand to her.

"Two." She took a step backward toward the portal.

Jennifer tried once more to reach out to Tobias but could find no more strength.

"Helene!" Taggart screamed, fully realizing she was not kidding at all.

She smiled with a look of satisfaction. "One."

With that, she fell backward through the portal, falling in the real world to the back of her chair. The screens went black as the connection to Dread's world was severed.

"No," Jennifer whispered weakly, reaching out with a weakened hand to Tobias once again but missing her arm entirely, despair overwhelming her.

The pressure door slid open. Holcomb sprinted to Tobias' side. He stopped short, unsure of what to do. He could not remove the data rod from her head. That would surely mean death. Then he looked down at the monitors, realizing in a panic that the connection had already been severed.

"Helene!" he exclaimed in terror. His fingers went to her neck, trying to find a pulse. "God, no . . ."

His shoulders slumped when he found no sign of life. A med tech rushed into the room to assist Holcomb, coming to Tobias' side, prepared to administer care. He stopped her with a shake of his head.

Tobias was dead.


	19. Chapter 19

The battle was raging

**Chapter 19**

**Into The Middle of Next Week**

The battle was raging. Smoke was beginning to fill the air. Each breath Jon took was laced with an acrid taste that bit at the back of his throat and sinuses. They were running out of time. Lyle, Burgess and Tank were being pushed back toward the central position as more and more mechs piled into the hall.

There were overunits in the mix now, a look of enjoyment on their faces as they took their shots at their human enemy. So far as Power could tell, none of the overunits had been wounded, but that would change soon enough if one became an available target. He could see the charges Kasich had placed in the console, glowing and pulsating in the shadows of the box. Soon, everyone and everything would be a target, perhaps even his own team.

He fired into the crowd of approaching mechs, dropping two of them in quick succession. He keyed his comm link.

"Power to Chase – Pilot, we could use a little help down here!"

He waited for a reply but got none. He tried again.

"Power to Chase, come in!"

There was no answer. Scout tossed a grenade toward the incoming mechs, blowing several of them into the air.

There was a ringing in Jon's ears at the explosion. His eyes recovered from the flash. He tried his comm again.

"Power to Pilot, come in!"

Holcomb's voice came over the comm link. "Captain Power?"

"Holcomb? Where are Jennifer and Doctor Tobias?"

There was a beat of silence. "Doctor Tobias is dead, Captain. You're on your own to get the team out of there. There's nothing we can do from this side."

The mechs were closing in too fast. Down the hall, something glinted in the red emergency lights. Jon looked for it again, feeling himself awash in a wave of despair. He waited for it, his mind suddenly not paying attention to the throngs of mechs coming toward his position. Then he saw it – the pointed tip of a wing.

Soaron was making its way down the hallway in a path cleared for it by the mechs. It raised its arm, preparing to fire.

Scout and Hawk saw the monster at the same time and began firing at it. Soaron returned the gesture, laying down a barrage of laser fire far more potent than that of the mechs at Power's team. One of the volleys hit dangerously close to Scout, who lunged toward Kasich's position for better cover.

Kasich was out cold. She might have been dead, for the violence of the hit she took. In any case, she had gone out fighting, firing her weapon for as long as she was able. Scout reached for her but was quickly driven away by mech fire. They seemed satisfied not to waste their time firing at a non-threatening human being. Instead, the fury of their warfare increased on active targets. Soaron was coming closer, firing more frequently, becoming more accurate. The priorities of the battle had just shifted.

"Tank!" Power yelled over the cacophony of the battle.

Tank turned his head in Power's direction and immediately understood what had to be done. He stepped out into the open, enduring more shots from mechs that pinged off his suit until he was in position.

"Wait for it," Power said.

As soon as Soaron entered the threshold of the doorway, they all fired in a concentrated effort at the mechanical bird. Soaron shuddered backward, staggering after several off-center shots to its body. It recovered, firing more ferociously at its opponents.

Scout rose to his feet. His eyes were sharp, intense with anger. His pistol raised, he began firing with abandon at Soaron, striking the machine dead-center, its most vulnerable spot. Soaron emitted a computer-generated scream and fell backward, crushing two mechs that could not get out of the way in time. It uprighted itself, taking specific aim at Scout and hitting its target.

Scout flew off his feet as the shot hit him squarely in the chest. He lay on the floor, near Kasich's legs, feebly trying to crawl out of the way. After a few seconds, he stopped his struggle. His suit powered down with a depletion warning, leaving him unconscious and with only his cloth uniform for protection.

Tank returned fire as fast as his cannon would allow. Power and Hawk joined him, raining fire on the oversized mech. Soaron tried to fight back but was overcome by the sheer force of those assaulting it. It screamed again, falling to the floor once more. This time, it did not get up and remained still.

The act brought on more mechs, their rate of fire increased, their numbers overwhelming. Power halted his firing for a moment to assess the situation one more time. There were mechs as far as his eye could see down both halls. They were closing in like a vise. A few had already crossed the threshold of the bulkhead and were in the room.

He heard a yelp behind him. He turned to see Lyle clutching his leg in pain. The mechs to the rear were making a push on Blalock's position. Lyle and the lieutenant would not last much longer.

Power looked to Hawk. "We need to blow it now!"

Hawk only nodded, agreeing with the team's commander. They both looked toward Kasich's position, trying to find the detonator switch. It was near her, out in the open, where she had dropped it.

Jon called to Baker. "Scout, can you hear me?"

There was no response.

"I'll get it," Hawk yelled. "Cover me."

Power fired off several shots, trying to create clearance for Hawk. It did not work. As soon as Hawk left the protection of the wall's abutment, a wave of mech fire greeted him, driving him back to the safety of the bulkhead.

The mechs were swarming, moving closer with each passing moment. Blalock ordered a retreat toward Power's position when their defense of the south end of the hall began to collapse. It was akin to being rounded up like cattle. The mechs were closing in fast, each step forward like a countdown to victory. Their strength was frightening to Jon. Never had he seen so many at once so organized. They were about to claim their first crushing victory against Power's team through numbers alone.

He and his team had voluntarily come on this mission, all knowing it might be a one-way trip as any military operation could be, but he never thought the odds would be so against them. It was at that moment he realized how much luck they had enjoyed as a team. The members were skilled in their jobs, but there was the element of fortune that saved them more times than Power cared to admit. Now, it seemed that fate would favor a different team, one of mechanical soldiers that fought at the behest of one Lord Dread. Already, two team members lay critically wounded, and another was braving the pain to stay in the fight.

A sudden surge ahead by the mechs had them pouring into the room like a faucet had been opened. The rebels fired at them as fast as their weapons would allow, but to no avail. There were too many mechs coming at them, firing back with greater fervor than the team could combat.

Jon ran through the options in his mind. Death was imminent if they continued to fight. If they surrendered, they would live another day. They would be prisoners, but there would still be a chance. They could perhaps even get to the detonator on the way out, making one last-ditch effort to blow the charges and rid the world once and for all of Lord Dread. There were still fighters at Sanctuary, and Jennifer was there. If there were a chance, she would provide it when the time was right.

He was about to issue the command to cease-fire when the mechs stopped. They stopped moving, and they stopped firing. They stopped everything, as though someone had turned them off in the throes of battle. They stood motionless, weapons raised, frozen.

It took a few seconds for all of them to realize the mechs had stopped. Burgess continued firing rapidly, felling several mechs like dominoes when the first target flew backward and crashed into another mech, sending it tumbling into yet another. Tank's put his hand on the man's shoulder, stopping the return fire.

They looked at the scene around them, seeing seventy or more mechs on either side of the corridor standing still. Jon reached out to one and pushed it. It fell backward without a fight. There was no flailing, no reaction. He looked over, curious, at Hawk.

Hawk shrugged. "Why ask why? Let's get the hell out of here while we still can."

"No argument there." He looked stepped forward into the mass of mechs. "Tank, Burgess – get Scout and Kasich. Hawk, Blalock, Lyle – stand watch. If anything moves, drop it. I'm going for the detonator."

Burgess and Tank began knocking mechs out of the way with their bare hands.

"Bowling for metalheads," Burgess quipped.

They made their way through the throng of mechs until they reached the area where Kasich and Scout lay injured. Power stooped down at Scout's side, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak. There was a dark area on Scout's uniform shirt, dead center, where Soaron's blast had heated through the protection of his suit.

Burgess knelt by Kasich. She was pale and still. He put his fingers to her neck, checking for a sign of life. Power did not expect him to find one. Kasich had taken a brutal shot to the back with no armor protection. Burgess moved the position of his fingers several times before he found the pulse. He let out a heavy sigh of relief that she was alive.

Power looked for the detonator where he had last seen it. He found it, or at least what remained of it, after a brief search. Half of it had been crushed under the foot of a nearby mech. He pushed the mech off the switch. The components inside had been destroyed, some of them reduced to fine powder.

"Blalock!" Power called.

The young lieutenant followed the path that had been cleared through the mechs until he was at Power's side. He looked down at the remnants of the detonator and shook his head.

"We have a problem, Captain," he said.

Power looked up at him. "The only detonator we have, right?"

"It was a custom build. We have prototypes back at the base, but that was the only one that was in working order."

Of course it was, Power muttered inwardly.

Power mulled the options again. "Okay, we leave the charges in place and head for Sanctuary. Put the panel back on the console. We'll figure out what to do once we get out of here. With any luck, they won't find the charges. Let's move."

A shot rang out in the corridor. Hawk and Lyle responded simultaneously, firing back in the direction of the attack. Power heard a grunt of pain and the dull thud of a human body hitting the floor. It had to be an overunit, he knew. He had forgotten about the overunits having been a part of the attack.

More came. They were firing, wildly defending Lord Dread's empire with their lives. They were more difficult to target, able to crouch down in the same defensive positions Power's team was able to enjoy. Their aim was more selective than that of the mechs. They were picking targets with ego and human reaction. They were not running on programs or being controlled internally by the likes of Overmind. They were independently thinking and maneuvering, driven by adrenaline and a zeal for their leader. They were human beings, but they were still the enemy.

The next phase of battle ensued against a squad of overunits and youth members. Jon dropped three of them, feeling a pang of guilt with each one. He thought of Jennifer, how she could very easily have been among them, fearing there were others with her qualities that would die without ever having the chance to see the greater good in humanity.

The human wave was not nearly as strong as the mechanical attack from earlier, and soon the surviving stragglers began to retreat to a more safe distance. The scent of burnt flesh filled the air, a revolting smell that Power had known all too often. Bodies lay on top of fallen mechs, none moving as far as he could tell.

Tank and Burgess pushed forward, chasing the human intruders away until there was enough breathing room for Power to check on his own wounded team. Kasich and Scout were still out cold. He checked for life signs on both of them again, counting it as a blessing that he found that each was still alive. They needed a way out of Volcania, but there was no way they were going to be able to use the hatchway in which they had come – not with two unconscious wounded bodies and another with an injured leg.

"Power to Holcomb."

There was a bit of static, then Holcomb answered. "Captain, this is Holcomb. We're a little busy here. What do you need?"

He wanted to ask why, but there was simply no time. "We need another way out of here. Who's able to check on the plans to this place?"

"We're a bit spread thin. I don't think any of us can tell you where to go with any authority. Most of our computers are offline. Even if we knew how to get the schematic up, it would be the blind leading the blind."

"What about Mentor? Is Mentor still functioning?"

"I don't know."

"We'll try from here." He made an adjustment on his comm link. "Power to Mentor."

The answer was immediate. "Mentor here, Captain."

Jon felt a rush of relief that at least something in the strategy was still working. "Mentor, we need another way out of here. We have three wounded and can't go out the way we got in. Any suggestions?"

There was a silence as Mentor computed the options. "While you cannot go down, you can go up, Captain. Follow the ramp to the north. That will lead to a large service lift. Without resistance, you should be able to access the roof."

"And remote the jumpship in to our location," Power said, completing the proposal. "Can you get a read on defenses from here to the lift?"

"Negative. The link with Volcania's systems has been severed. I am unable to access any information to guide you. However, it appears that Overmind has gone offline. Therefore, internal computer-guided defenses should be inoperable for the moment."

Hawk raised a brow in amusement. "That explains the mech rock garden."

"Mentor, what's the estimate on the time until Overmind resets?"

"Unknown, Captain. I suggest you move as quickly as possible."

"Acknowledged." He turned to his team. "Tank, Burgess – let's get moving. Hawk, you and Blalock take point. Lyle, stay in the middle. I'll cover the rear."

He bent down and picked up the equipment bag near the console. "At least we're not going away empty-handed," he said to Hawk. "We have the engram cube."

"If you say so, my friend," Hawk said skeptically. "But when Overmind figures out half its food is missing, it's going to come looking for it one way or the other."

Hawk had a point. The engrams would be replaced one way or another. Either Overmind would send armies to look for it, or Soaron would step up its pace of the digitization of innocents. In any case, there would be time later to deal with the consequences. They had to get out of Volcania first before they could consider future implications.

Tank bent down on one knee and pulled Scout upright by an arm. In one motion, he put the younger man on his shoulder and stood. Burgess, likewise, did the same with Kasich, though it seemed to be with more care and more ease. For the first time, Jon could see the extent of her wounds. Her back was charred where the mech's laser fire had hit her. He saw Burgess grimace at the sight of it.

Hawk took point as ordered, followed closely by Blalock. Lyle limped ahead of Burgess and Tank, weapon at the ready. Jon slung the equipment bag over his shoulder and forged ahead with the group, checking behind him every few steps for pursuing mechs or human fighters.

They picked their way through the maze of bodies on the floor. Tank and Burgess each stumbled a few times but did not drop their charges. The course of torsos on the floor seemed to go on far too long before they encountered frozen mechs. Hawk and Blalock began clearing a path by pushing mechs to the side. The lane they made was thin, but it was better than vaulting piles of bodies, both human and machine. Jon had never seen so many mechs in one place. It looked as though Dread had an infinite number of the machines at his disposal. Given the purpose of Volcania – the production of the mechanical race – it was conceivable that there were thousands more standing still throughout the base, awaiting a command from their master.

Power checked in with Mentor again. "Mentor, any sign of movement?"

"Nothing yet, Captain. All systems are still inoperable inside Volcania."

"What about outside?"

"No information is yet available concerning outside forces. I will attempt to find out for you."

Jon could see the lift ahead. It was at the mouth of a larger room that looked like it was used for storage. Large crates were stacked three-high in neat rows that made for perfect enemy hiding places. Hawk and Blalock took defensive positions near the lift, peering into the dark shadows made by the crates, looking for signs of troopers that might be lurking.

Tank and Burgess continued moving ahead until they came to the entrance to the lift. The heavy steel door of the lift was closed. Jon pushed a panel to call for the car. The heavy gears beyond the door began moving, bringing them one step closer to freedom.

Kasich flinched on Burgess' shoulder. She began to awaken, assaulted by pain and confusion about where she was. She flailed against Burgess' strong arm around her. He gently brought her upright and sat her down on the floor, leaning her against the wall. He knelt down next to her, putting a gentle hand on her cheek.

"Meredith?" he said softly, using her first name.

Her head lolled back against the bulkhead, eyes flickering open at the sound of her name. She surveyed her surrounding with eyes only, focusing on Jon.

Her breath was staggered as she fought her pain. "This wasn't in the plan," she managed weakly.

Jon knelt down next to her and gave half a smile. "We're almost out of here. Just a little further."

"I'll take your word for it," she breathed, pain impeding the strength of her voice.

Jon stood, with no time for any more pleasantries. They had to move quickly if Kasich had any chance at all. He dared not look to Hawk for an assessment of her injuries. It was apparent how serious they were. Power was surprised she was still alive at all.

The lift locked into place with metallic clanking sound. They took up defensive positions in case it was full of troopers or human fighters. The door rose up, revealing an empty car. Tank and Burgess picked up the wounded once more. Kasich gave a desperate cry of pain but managed to quiet herself as Burgess put her over his shoulder. Jon, Blalock and Hawk guarded against any further attacks. The air was cold and clean inside the car, a welcomed change from the choking remains of the earlier battle in the halls. Hawk examined the control panel and selected the roof as the car's destination.

The car began rising, too slowly for Jon's tastes. He silently urged it on faster. He could feel in his very skin that they were running out of time. He could envision the overunits organizing youth fighters en masse to greet them on the roof, stopping their escape. He checked his pistol, feeling its weight, trusting its reliability to bring down a mechanical enemy. He did not doubt its capability against human flesh.

The lift cranked into place at the top floor after what seemed in interminable ride. They waited for the door to open, but it remained closed, sealing them inside the car. Jon looked at Hawk who rolled his eyes in frustration. This was not something they needed.

"All dressed up and no place to go," Hawk said, holstering his pistol. He walked to the control panel and examined it.

Jon approached. "Can we blow it?"

Hawk shrugged. "We could," he said. "Or, we could just hit the button to open the door."

He reached out and tapped the panel. The locking mechanism on the door released, allowing the wall of steel to rise before them. Jon looked to the roof as the door opened, looking for booted feet. The roof looked clear. Hawk stepped forward on one side while Jon covered the opposite angle. Still, they saw no one. Jon stepped outside the elevator, continuously checking corners. Ahead was an ideal landing area for the jumpship. There was some semblance of cover for them to wait for its arrival. He silently pointed it out to Hawk, who agreed with the choice.

The night air was unusually cold on Jon's face. The wind whipped around the ventilation emplacements on the roof. The boxes provided good cover, but they also impeded the search for any ambushes.

They moved as silently as they could, but their gear made small clanking noises that could easily give away their position. Jon knew it was something he would be listening for if was on the other side. He adjusted his grip on the equipment bag to give it more shock absorption with his arm. The tools inside it quieted to his satisfaction.

The ventilation units were staggered in equal intervals, the space between each the same as the width of the units themselves. He stopped before each open space, checking the corners. It all seemed too easy, too uncomplicated for what they had gone through in the lower levels. On the other hand, Mentor had said that Overmind was offline. That meant no mechs for at least for the moment. The problem was that he had no idea how long that would last.

He looked over at Hawk. "Start remoting the jumpship," he whispered. "I get the feeling we've worn out our welcome."

Hawk did not reply. He raised his arm and began entering commands into the controller on his arm to bring the jumpship to the roof. He looked up at Jon when he was done.

"Three minutes," he reported.

It might as well have been a lifetime. Three minutes was long enough to be overrun with Dread Youth and overunits.

Power peered around the corner of one of the cooling vents. He saw the ideal area to land the jumpship, but there was little cover to the area of the zone. The jumpship would not take long to arrive, but minutes had come to seem like hours since they started the mission.

He waved the others forward to the last of the hiding places where they would wait for the ship's arrival. Burgess set Kasich against one of the shafts. She seemed more awake now, either because of pain or that her body had recovered somewhat from the initial shock of being shot. She looked paler, shivering against the cool night breeze. She looked at Power and gave him a minute nod, as if to say she was not going down without a fight and neither should he. He returned the gesture, a feeling of determination coming over him that they would prevail in this battle and maybe change the course of the war.

Scout was still out cold. They had all taken hits in their suits. Jon knew firsthand that it hurt. It hurt a lot. It was that simple. It took days to get over it, and he had experienced his share of the aftermath of bruising and swelling. There was no way to assess the extent of Scout's wounds. If he was only knocked out the recovery was still going to be at least days on end before the ache dissipated.

"Two minutes," Hawk reported quietly.

Jon stood up slightly and peered over the top of the vent shaft. He saw the overunits and a contingent of Dread Youth entering the roof from another entrance on the other side.

"Here they come!" he shouted to the team, firing off three shots in an effort to hold off their swarming. He hit one but missed with the other two shots.

Blalock dashed to Power's position, joining him in the covering fire. The human fighters began shooting back at Power's team. No matter how soon the jumpship arrived, it was clear the run to it would be perilous. Lyle moved up to their position and added his own cover fire to the malay.

"Hawk!" Power called over the din of the new battle. "You have to get the jumpship closer!"

Haw was concentrating on the control panel on his arm. "I'll get right on that, Captain."

"I'm not kidding!"

"Neither am I. There's not exactly a lot of room up here on the dome." He shook his head in frustration as he lay crouched, safe from the incoming fire. "Just hold them off and I'll see what I can do!"

Burgess and Tank joined the line of fire, suppressing the advance of the human beings at the other entrance to the roof area. They exchanged fire at a manic pace. Shots sparked off the vent they used for cover, spraying molten metal back at them. One shot brought Blalock to his knees as melted metal sprayed onto his cheek. He sank back to the roof, clutching his face with a cry of pain.

Power ducked down to check on Blalock, but the lieutenant refused his help. "I'm fine!" he shouted angrily.

Jon could only take the man at his words. He popped back up over the top of the vent and picked a target, firing a shot and cleanly dispatching a combatant.

"One minute!" Hawk shouted above the battle.

Tank and Burgess broke off to return to the wounded, each picking up the bodies and preparing to move. Jon stepped up his rate of fire, and Blalock followed suite soon after recovering from his own wounds. Over the din of the firefight, he heard Kasich's distressed cry of pain as Burgess picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. He turned back in time to see Tank pulled a still unconscious Scout into position.

The night air that seemed cool when they first got onto the roof suddenly turned so much warmer. Jon felt the sweat running down the side of his face. He wiped at a stream of it that rolled into his right eye. He glanced to his right at Blalock. Blood was running down the lieutenant's cheek where he had been hit with shrapnel from the vent. Compared to all that had happened, he knew it was a minor wounded compared to the rest, but that did not allay the knowledge that it must have stung like hell.

"Thirty seconds!" Hawk called out.

Tank and Burgess struggled to stay low with the wounded, out of the shots raging overhead of them. Nearly simultaneously, they dropped the bodies behind the vent that was being used for cover without nearly so much care as they had when they had first stepped onto the roof.

Jon could hear the whine of the jumpship's engines in the distance. He saw the landing lights as the ship approached their position. The tiny lights grew into a blinding spotlight. Hot air from the vertical jets kicked up dust and debris from the roof, the storm illuminated in the landing lights.

Almost immediately, the Dread Youth began firing at the ship, making the assumption someone must be inside it. Power and Blalock fired rapidly, driving a few braver warriors back a decent distance. The sound of the jumpship roared around them.

Power crouched down behind the vent shaft again to address the group over the blast of the jumpship. "Blalock and I will lay down a suppressing fire. Get to the jumpship as fast as you can!" He looked at Blalock. "On three!"

The countdown was quick. Jon and Blalock sprang from behind the vent and began firing with abandon at the attackers. There seemed to be more of them now, pouring onto the roof and taking cover much the way Power's team had.

Hawk sent a command to the ship to open the hatch on the side. By the time Blalock and Jon reached the ship, it was almost all the way open. Jon knelt by it, using it for cover. Blalock found minimal protection behind a landing strut.

Hawk took to the air, drawing intense fire from the roof. He answered with two rockets that impacted in the center of a concentration of enemy fighters. Jon saw two bright flashes and several bodies flailing through the air until they came to rest on the roof, still and dead.

He looked back to check on the progress of Burgess and Tank. They were making their way along, Burgess using Tank for cover as they ran. Jon stepped up his return fire to cover them as they neared the hatch of the jumpship. Blalock did the same until they were safely aboard.

Jon looked up in the night sky for Hawk, who was busily dodging shots from the roof and returning them in kind.

"Hawk!" Jon call through the comm. "Get aboard!"

A shot zipped closely by Hawk's head. Jon could hear a grunt in Hawk's effort to avoid being hit.

"Thought you'd never ask!" Hawk yelled back.

Jon and Blalock continued a heavy barrage of fire as Hawk descended onto the stairway of the hatch. Hawk used a portion of the hull for cover as he shot back at the enemy.

Jon turned to Blalock. "Get on the jumpship! I'll cover you!"

Blalock followed the order and began retreating through the safest route to the hatch. Just as he was making his way up the stairs, an overunit rushed up, weapon raised. Blalock dropped him mid-stride, falling on to his back on the steps of the hatch as he manically defended himself. It was an act of overkill as four rounds pummeled the overunit.

Hawk reached down and grabbed at Blalock's collar to right him. The lieutenant got to his feet and scrambled inside the jumpship, taking up a position on the other side of the door to continue supporting fire.

"Jon, let's move it!" Hawk yelled.

The jumpship was heating up for takeoff. Jon knew Tank was at the helm, waiting for the word to get airborne. Jon began to fall back toward the hatch, catching a shot from a Dread Youth in his arm that pushed him backward. He kept his footing and stepped up on the hatch's steps, diving inside the ship.

"Go! Go! Go!" Hawk yelled once Jon was in the clear.

The hatch began to close as the ship lifted off the roof. Blalock retreated to the inner safety of the bridge while Hawk remained to make sure the hatch was secure. Jon could hear the shots hitting the hull even as Tank gunned the engines and pulled away from Volcania.

The jumpship groaned and shook at the demands made of it by Tank's flying. They were making a fast egress that even the most experienced flyer could not have made a calm ride. Jon grabbed for an overhead handle and held on until they were clear of the outbound fire from Volcania. The team powered down out of their armor.

He looked to the back of the bridge area to check on the condition of Scout and Kasich. Though wounded himself, Lyle was tending to them both. Kasich was laid out, facedown, on the med bunk, and Jon could only assume she was more critically injured than Scout, who had been carefully placed on the floor near her.

Lyle was working quickly to give aid to both of them, but his efforts seemed more concentrated on Kasich's wounded back. She lay on the med bunk, limp. Her arm hung over the side, draped downward, and unmoving. Jon stepped closer and got his first detailed view of what a direct hit from a mech weapon on an unprotected body could do. Lyle had managed to cut away some of the cloth of her shirt, but bits still clung to the wound, fused into the skin. Kasich had lost consciousness again, a blessing given the circumstance.

"How are they?" Jon asked, stepping in even closer. He dropped down on one knee to check on Scout.

Lyle continued to work urgently. "Your man has a concussion and some serious bruising."

"Kasich?"

"Internal bleeding," Lyle answered, distracted. He was working quickly to stabilize her in the unsteady flight of the ship. "Collapsed lung, maybe worse. The hit is damned close to her spine."

Jon looked at Lyle's leg. It was bleeding where he had received his own wound from mech fire. "How about you?"

Lyle glanced at moment at Jon, returning his attention quickly to Kasich. "I'll live."

"Jon," Hawk called from the fore of the bridge. "We're coming up on the jumpgate. What do you want to do?"

There could be no argument. "Take it. We'll deal with whatever we find on the other side. Activate coding sequence and prepare for transit."

He gave Scout a comforting pat on the shoulder and stood. He took his seat on the bridge just moments before the ship entered the jumpgate. A quick glance to the sensors showed they were not followed. There was no way to know what awaited them on the other side of the gate. The ideal tactic would have been to use several gates to confuse any enemy, but the issue of wounded negated that possibility. The best they could do was fly straight through and hope they picked up any enemy on the monitors in time to make a decent defense.

A bright flash filled the cockpit as the jumpship took the gate, bending space to make for a shorter trip across the continent. Jon looked back on Lyle's progress. The man was sweating and in pain, though he would probably never admit as much. Kasich looked like a corpse on the med bunk. Her skin had a terrible pallor, as she lay motionless. Then there was Scout. Jon trusted that Lyle gave an assessment to the best of his ability, but the captain would not be satisfied until all the wounded were evaluated and treated back at Sanctuary.

That brought more questions to Jon's mind. He had all but forgotten that Tobias was dead. He did not know the circumstances, but he had no doubt they owed their lives to her sacrifice. He was sure she had traded her life for theirs. He wondered if she was alive long enough to know they had secured the engram cube or if everyone had made it out because of her efforts.

He kept watch on the screens to the right, looking for pursuing enemy fighters, but they were alone in the gate's tube.

Hawk had taken his place in the right seat in the cockpit. "We're coming up on exit, Captain."

"Cloak immediately on exit," Power ordered. "Open a channel to Sanctuary to have some transports ready."

Lyle limped next to Power. "There's no time, Captain. We need to set down at Sanctuary and get inside as soon as possible."

Lyle looked weak and in pain. Jon reacted quickly when he saw the man's legs buckle. He caught Lyle's arm and kept him upright, standing up out of his command seat. Burgess stepped in to help. Together, they led the sergeant to Scout's console chair. Lyle dropped into it heavily, leaning back with no more energy to function. Jon quickly found a pressure bandage in the medical supplies and applied it tightly to Lyle's upper thigh where dark blood had blossomed.

Jon looked to Hawk in the cockpit. "Think you can land this bucket on Sanctuary's doorstep?"

"It's going to be a tight fit," Hawk said, punching calculations into the flight computer. "I'm more worried about patrols getting a look at us when we do it."

"We're going to have to risk it. Let Sanctuary know we need all reinforcements on standby while we land. If the patrols spot us, we'll deal with it then. If Dread recalled his units, we may be in the clear."

He turned his attention to Lyle again, who was now out cold. Jon checked the pressure bandage, making sure it was tight enough to stop the flow of blood from the wound. Burgess motioned that he would watch Lyle so Jon could return to the command chair.

"Ten seconds to gate exit," Hawk reported.

Jon instinctively braced himself on the arms of the chair. He had done so for as long as he could remember with no particular reason. Each time they entered and exited the gates, he expected some sort of assault on the ship and its occupants, but none ever came until Soaron had ambushed them. This gate exit was quiet and uneventful as they pushed through to normal space.

"Switching to cloaked mode," Hawk reported with a flick of a switch.

The first light of dawn was cracking the horizon to the east. Distant clouds were tinged with orange and pink hues of the impending day. Jon got only a glimpse of it before Hawk took the controls and banked sharply to the right to bring the jumpship in line for a landing at Sanctuary. They flew past the outskirts of town. There was very little if any movement in the streets. All the revelers were sleeping it off. Jon counted the lack of witnesses to their flyby a small blessing in an otherwise hellacious night.

It was Burgess who placed a call to Sanctuary. "Firestorm One to Echo One, we are inbound with three wounded. We're going to be setting down on the porch. I repeat, we're setting down on the porch. Request cover support fire and medical teams standing by."

There was the crackle of static and a reply. "Echo One to Firestorm One, we copy. Support fire and medical teams will be waiting. Welcome home."

"Here we go," Hawk announced. "Hang on."

He brought the nose of the jumpship up sharply to slow its descent. The building under which Sanctuary lay approached. Hawk slowed the jumpship's speed. He kicked on the vertical jets that rumbled the deck of the ship. Guards standing watch on the atrium's walls turned in alarm, unable to see the source of the noise, only hear the jets and feel the wash from them.

Hawk had not been exaggerating when he said it would be a tight fit. The jumpship nestled down through the hole in the roof of the building with only two meters on either side of clearance. He eased the ship down slowly, carefully slipping it past rubble that jutted out from the sides of the building. It seemed to take forever, but the landing struts finally made contact with the floor of the atrium.

Burgess was first at the door, nearly barreling through the hatch and calling for medical teams. He returned to the inside of the ship, pulling Lyle out of his chair and dragging him with Power's help to the steps of the hatch. As promised, members of the medical team were waiting with stretchers and put him on one.

Hawk and Tank moved to the back of the ship. Tank picked up Scout one last time, handing him off at the hatch to another waiting stretcher.

Burgess and Hawk disconnected the med bunk's stretcher from the wall and exited the ship quickly. It was a train of wounded and tired bodies making its way to the elevator shaft. The sunrise had begun in earnest, casting the first true light of day through the blown out windows of the atrium. It was vanquished when the doors to the elevator closed, transporting them all to the lower levels of Sanctuary. Despite their potential losses, they had made it home.


	20. Chapter 20

Plotly Questions:

**Chapter 20**

**Let Bygones Be Bygones**

--

The sheet felt cool against Jon's cheek. He lay hunched over the side of Pilot's bed, his hand gently covering hers. Even in the fog of a restless nap, he was aware of the rhythmic sounds of the respirator that was helping her to recover.

The chaos of the triage area was bad enough, but when Jon found Jennifer in much the same condition as before, it was almost too much. After Holcomb had finished working on the casualties, he met briefly with Jon to explain that all the previous measures were put back into place to give her body the time it needed to heal. She had been taken off the support systems far too soon to accomplish the mission, and it had nearly been a fatal decision.

Holcomb had assured him that she would be all right. He offered only that small explanation before shuffling off to get some much-needed sleep.

The medical ward was full. Lyle was in worse shape than it first appeared, but he would recover in time. He was out of pain and resting comfortably, sleeping the sleep of the dead.

Scout had awakened but was still ordered to bed for observation. He was sore from his ordeal but had not suffered nearly as much as if he had not had on a suit. He requested to be moved into Kasich's room, which was granted. Power would have demanded it had the medical staff not been so obliging.

Kasich, by far, had taken the worst of the hits. Holcomb had worked for hours to save her life, without the assistance of Helene Tobias to employ the tricks of the medical trade and modified Dread gadgets. They nearly lost Kasich twice, but Holcomb's diligence won out, sparing her life and putting her on track to recovery. It would be a long road, one shared by Jennifer Chase, Lyle, and for a short time, Scout.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and found Hawk standing there.

"Don't you ever sleep?" he asked the major quietly, still foggy.

"It's okay," Hawk replied in a near-whisper, "I slept last year."

Jon smiled, welcoming the ironic humor. "What's up?"

"You wanted to know when we were ready to move the jumpship."

"Dread patrols out of the area?"

"No sign of them. I'm guessing they're regrouping at Volcania trying to figure out who the new leader is."

"Seems like we have the same problem ourselves."

Hawk shook his head in disagreement. "Hey, buddy – we know who _our_ leader is. It's the folks around here that don't know what's going on."

Jon was afraid that Hawk still did not get it. "They had a leader, Matt, and a damned good one. You may have had a bad history with her, but she died saving us. She died taking out Dread."

Hawk looked away and clenched his jaw. When the muscle eased again, he said, "It's hard to forget the past, Jon. All I can do is promise you that I'll try to keep my mouth shut around her people, but there's a big part of me that isn't the least bit sorry she's gone."

Jon could not argue a man's feelings. Hawk had every right to the opinion that Tobias had been a killer, since Tobias had admitted it outright to Jon on the roof.

"That's fair," Jon said. "Let's just try to make this work until we can get our bearings, okay? We're strung out and hurting. We need to make sure we can fight, and that's going to take teamwork with everyone here."

Hawk nodded reluctantly. "I'll let you know when the ship has been moved."

Jon said nothing in return. Hawk turned on his heel and walked slowly out of the room, the stoop of his back belaying his exhaustion.

Jon turned to Jennifer. Holcomb had assured him she would recover, but it was still difficult to see her in such a state. Machines that were keeping her alive did not seem so vulgar now. She should have been dead. Technology created by the enemy he despised had saved the lives of good people who were willing to die for a cause – the cause of freedom.

He did not know what would happen to the team, and he really had no energy to give the question. His bones ached with exhaustion and soreness. Jon realized belatedly that he, too, had taken his share of shots from mech weapons. They all had. Burgess seemed to be the only one to escape unscathed. It had been a blessing, too. They never could have made it out with the entire team intact had he been taken out of commission.

There was a pall over the entire facility. Tobias' death had hit many of Sanctuary's people hard. There would be others in the future who would never benefit from her expertise and willingness to help the less fortunate among the surviving human race. That much was certain, and Jon found it the most tragic result of all.

What was not certain was Dread's fate. There was no way to know for sure at that point if he had been put down for good. Blastarr and Soaron were still in the equation, as well as a maniacal corps of Dread Youth and the overunits in position to carry on Dread's commands from the grave. Once they could regroup and determine new leadership, assuming Dread was was truly dead, they would be back and in full force with all the resources of Volcania at their disposal. The charges had been set in the computer core, but there was always the chance that they had been discovered and would not be in place to do the job should a new detonator become available.

Jennifer moved slightly in her induced sleep. Jon pushed away the questions buzzing in his mind and picked up her hand in his, putting a gentle kiss on it. He watched her for a while, studying every feature, wanting to memorize each facet in case the chance never came again. There would be time to fight the war later, but this moment he had in his possession was fleeting. He felt he must make the best of the opportunity while it was still there. He had nearly lost her. In his heart, he knew he could again, or she him. It was a fact of being at war where so many had already died.

Tomorrow, he would have a plan. Tomorrow, he would assume some sort of leadership role to make sure that what Tobias started did not end. But for the moment, he was content to sit and watch Jennifer Chase sleep, alive and warm to the touch and finally out of the reach of death's long grasp.


End file.
